One Day at a Time
by shadesofmidnightsun
Summary: It's nostalgia that first chases Tony out on the streets. Then monsters, then Pepper, then just something time and again. For Loki it's banishment, having his magic taken, demons of the past that he may or may not remember, and slowly losing what little he has left. And if they somehow stumble upon each other again and again, so what? Frostiron. Warning: triggers.
1. Chapter 1: December 24-25

A/N: This was originally meant as a oneshot (I'm writing a darker fic which is not yet posted,and will be Loki/OC, and I seriously needed some fluff, even if it turned out a little less fluffy than inteded. Besides, I ship Frostiron like crazy), and it will most likely stay one, too, but there's a whole story growing in my head, so some of the unknown things that could have been explained are not. There's nothing missing, though, it's not like Loki would tell everything, either. He might come acros a bit OOC at times (hopefully not), but in my head, he has perfect reasons (they're written in a note in the end).

I don't own any of the characters. Sadly. Nor the image.

And I hope you'll forgive me my mistakes (sorry, not a native speaker).

Also, I listened to Sekai Ichi Hatsukoi soundtracks while writing: Shunjun suru Kimochi; Tsunoru Kiogokoro; Shiawasena Yume; Issho ni Itai; Himeta Omoi; Shinobiyotu Kage. Enjoy

**December 24th/25th**

_Candles in the window,  
shadows painting the ceiling,  
gazing at the fire glow,  
feeling that gingerbread feeling.  
Precious moments,  
special people,  
happy faces,  
I can see.  
Somewhere in my mem'ry_

_John Williams: Somewhere In My Memory_

Tony Stark did not like Christmas.

No, wait. That was an understatement. He liked it about as much as Fury was fond of the council.

Okay, so maybe he liked it a little. One could probably even see the part of him that hosted this fondness if they looked through two or three dozens of magnifying glasses. Most likely three and a half.

Or one could simply be Tony Stark and know about its existence. He still wished there was no such part of him. Because that little fondness towards the crappy holiday was what always left him disappointed.

It started when he was six and discovered Santa didn't exist, so much sooner than other kids, but he'd got used to being a couple of steps in front of them by then. It hurt, because Santa was supposed to be giving presents to children who were good, and if he got presents, he was good. It meant somebody was satisfied with him instead of constantly pushing him to be more, or ignoring him. If it was just his parents instead of Santa …

Well, they were giving him things all the time. Just never what he wanted most.

Growing up kept him wondering why he never felt the warmth and the sense of wonder other people talked about when he sat down with his parents for the short hour they dedicated to it. He wondered how Christmas looked like in the rooms he sometimes caught glimpses of when he walked down the streets.

Howard and Maria died. He spent the next few Christmases either alone or at some party, getting wasted in both cases. There were always girls. And once a guy, almost.

Obadiah tried to keep him in check. But they never spent Christmas together.

Business was strictly separated from it as well. Even Tony didn't know why. He could socialise at New Year, but Christmas was …

That was the point when he started to pretend it didn't exist at all. A little later he started lying to himself that he had succeeded. Sex and drinks had long since become regularity.

He thought this year was going to be different. He had Pepper. But there were things. Like the reappearance of Hydra. Or Fury bugging her whenever he couldn't get to Tony. And tears when Tony ended in a hospital after a building had almost collapsed on top of him. There were things, and then there was agent Agent. No, practically coming back from the dead did not give him the privilege to be called by his name. He took Pepper. And even though Tony couldn't resent them, he still felt something ugly stir inside of him every now and then when their happiness was so much bigger than his.

So he thought this Christmas would be horrible. And then he stopped thinking, because the team practically claimed his tower in the afternoon, Steve, Pepper, and Bruce hijacked his kitchen, and after too long a time his table finally bent under something home-made. They were all together, the Avengers (sans Thor, who'd decided to spend Christmas with Jane and her friends), Pep and Coulson, Rodney had promised to call the next day, since he was spending Christmas eve with his family, and Tony'd even got a card from Fury, which almost made him believe in miracles.

It was nice, the warm smell of food, the lights on the Christmas tree, the presents they opened in the evening (Tony threw the etiquette Steve had bought him at Cap's head) because tomorrow was a new day and their ways would part, an orange with cloves Tony had made in a moment of nostalgia. It wasn't just nice, it was _home_. However dysfunctional, they looked out for each other—they were family.

Natasha and Clint left first. They had somewhere to be, they said. Burce followed just after that with some mysterious excuse, but Tony wouldn't be Tony if he hadn't known there was a certain Ms Ross involved. He was happy for his friend, he really was.

Pepper offered him an apologetic smile that said goodbye better than words around one in the morning. She left with Coulson's arm around her shoulders, and Tony couldn't help but swallow. In some other life, it would have been his arm. But he was Iron Man as much as he was Tony Stark, and he didn't believe in reincarnation anyway.

He opened a new bottle of wine for Steve and him then, realising with surprise that he actually wasn't drunk for the first time in so many years.

The conversation was a bitch to lead, strange as it was, seeing they both had nowhere else to go tonight. But this was Steve's first Christmas in the present; it probably gave him enough to think about. Tony could understand the wish to be alone with memories. He offered the soldier a room a floor or two under the top, Cap accepted, and Tony was suddenly left alone with piles of dirty dishes in the kitchen, empty glasses on the club table, and torn wrapping paper near the Christmas tree. He picked it up; it didn't belong there.

It was an impulse, telling him to turn off all the lights save the ones on the tree, but Jarvis didn't comment. Tony was grateful. Something was swelling inside of his chest, and his mind wandered back, back to when he had to tilt his head to look at the Christmas tree, to the smell of cinnamon, and a pat on the head. He remembered having real candles instead of electric lights, and cloves his mother had always decorated oranges with, in those rare, precious hours she'd spend with Tony before Christmas. It had been her mother's tradition, too, she'd said.

Tony's chest suddenly felt too tight. He picked the single orange from the club table and moved closer to the tree, suddenly feeling the emptiness of the room intensify. For a while, he didn't so much as move a muscle. His eyes rested on the little lights, but his gaze was distant, fingers clutching the orange with more pressure. This was what it had come down to; everybody had gone their ways, and was this his way, standing all alone in the dark, wishing for candles that had long since burned down?

Thousands of lights flickered outside the windows. Surely it was easier to breathe there, the air was so thin in here …

He grabbed his coat, put boots on, and wrapped a scarf around his neck on the way down. Cold wind collided with his face when he was about half way through putting the gloves on his hands, and he shivered. Hissing, he put the hood on.

The night was silent. People had gone home, parties were far fewer than on New Year's Eve, and if they were outside, they weren't here. He saw no one; the only movement was the flickering of lights and the slow, hypnotic falling of fluffy snowflakes. Tony didn't remember New York being so peaceful. Ever.

He headed for the Fifth Avenue, pushing his hands deeper into his pockets and pulling his head in between his shoulders. It was cold as hell, or, or cold as the look Pepper had shot him when he hadn't liked the socks she'd bought him (he didn't need the Avengers on his socks, he could see them life practically every other day, thank you very much).

He continued to walk like that, taking shortcuts, mouth hidden behind his scarf, leaving soft footprints in the thin inch of snow on the ground. Cold air burned his lungs a little, but it was so much easier to breath. He didn't even feel like he was walking away from something; the sole movement helped his mood, even as nostalgia and remnants of melancholy lingered, mixed with some strange sad kind of contentment.

When he slipped into an alley between two buildings and passed a figure curled in on itself, pressed against the wall, he kept walking, but his valet suddenly felt very heavy in his pocket. Christmas was a time for good, right, for forgiveness, and new beginnings. He could buy the whole Manhattan, what were a hundred bugs for him. He would never be a real hero, that much he knew, but he could be a good person.

The snow under his feet creaked a little. Walking back, he pulled out a couple of banknotes and crouched down in front of the person, a man with his knees drawn to his chest and his head hanging low, hair hiding his face. His arms were wound tightly around his form.

"Here." Tony waved the notes through the air. It got him no response. He sighed, then put the money down beside the person, and got up. "Merry Christmas."

He turned on his heels and—wait, wait, wait, the current temperature plus being outside plus unresponsiveness … Ah, hell.

He squatted again, this time taking hold of the guy's shoulder. He felt muscles tense under the fabric—God, that was just a layer of leather—so he shook it, finally earning a response; the person lifted his head a little—

And Tony tried, and miserably failed, to recoil, ending up falling on his butt. Because—

Loki.

What?

But the face, even in the dark, was unmistakably his. Clothes fitted, now that he took a better look; boots, and what looked like a tunic made out of combination of fabric and leather, or maybe that was just an extra layer of leather over it, or was it some kind of a coat? It was hard to tell with him sitting like that.

"Loki? What the hell? Shouldn't you be in Asgard? What are you doing here?"

Tony's guard was up immediately. But why on Christmas? Couldn't this encounter have waited for two days, or maybe until after the holidays? Here he'd been, having the best Christmas in ages, and now this.

"Minding my own business." Loki's voice was as cold as the snowflakes falling on his dark hair. "You should be, too."

"The safety of my city is my business."

"I don't see any threats."

"I do. You're right here." Tony was back on his legs by now, though still crouching.

A corner of Loki's mouth twitched up, meant to show disdain. It didn't work that much, though. Something in his expression was not as controlled as the god probably wanted it to be. Tony just didn't know yet what he was seeing through that crack.

The half-smirk disappeared, and Loki tilted his head to a side just the slightest.

"I'm no threat to your beloved city, Stark. I could do some serious damage to you nonetheless, but I'm not inclined to move too much. Your lucky day, it seems."

Tony set his mouth. "And why the hell should I believe a word you say?"

"You asked for my words."

Oh-oh, Loki's indignation was growing. Not smart. Tony really needed to install a brain-to-mouth filter on himself. He ran a hand over his face.

"You've got a proof?"

Loki pressed his lips together.

"Look, either we clarify this now, or I'll drag you to SHEILD, and they'll beat the answers out of you."

Loki fixed him with a glare. Then he slowly untangled one hand from his body, keeping the other one in place, and equally slowly extended it towards Tony, who looked at it suspiciously. Loki had no gloves; his skin was pale in the darkness, marred only by a trail of black markings that started on the knuckle under his middle finger and ran across the back of his palm only to disappear under the sleeve. Hesitating for a moment, Tony reached out and pushed it back with one hand, confirming what he's suspected; the line continued up towards Loki's elbow.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Runes," Loki answered shortly. "They keep my magic away."

"Oh." Well, at least Loki had received some sort of punishment. "I take it you still found a way out of your cell?"

"This _is_ my cell, Stark." Loki snatched his hand back. "Banishment worked for Thor; Odin thought it would work for me, too." He snorted.

"So daddy sealed your powers and sent you to Earth? Without the Bifrost or the Cube?"

Loki grimaced. "There are other ways."

"Yeah, I figured. Can Thor confirm your story?"

Loki shrugged. "If Odin told him."

Great. Another dad who thought he knew better than all the others.

Tony knew he should call Thor, but it was the middle of the night, Christmas night on top of it, he didn't have the heart to bother him. Or anyone for the matter. A sigh escaped his lips before he could contain it.

"Let's say I believe your story. What do I do with you now?"

"You could leave me alone." Loki's voice was so full of sarcasm.

Tony didn't have to be told twice, either. His legs were already killing him, straightening up felt like heaven. He hated squatting. Pulling his hood further over his face, he turned to leave when Loki spoke again.

"Unless you've got some milk?"

Really? _Really?_

"Seriously, if that's what you want to drink after spending time out here in the cold, you've got to be a mental."

"Not for me!" Loki snapped.

"No?" Tony turned back to him. "What for, then?"

Loki let out a puff that was somewhere between irritated and pissed, and waved a hand for Tony to crouch again. Well, sometimes things came with a price even if one was a billionaire. He complied with Loki's gesture. The god finally unwrapped his left arm from around his body and slightly peeled away the top layer of leather. Tony leaned closer to get a better look before he frantically rubbed his eyes, because no. Maybe he wasn't as sober as he'd thought. Yep, that was it, he shouldn't have opened that last bottle. Steve would tell him the same if—when—he asked him. A scolding sounded so much more probable than Loki nursing two tiny, scrawny kittens which were desperately pressing against his chest and each other for some extra warmth. Because, come on. Loki. Kittens. No.

The two fury balls seemed to tremble slightly, and Loki covered them with his, um, was it a sleeveless coat, again; the gesture bordered on protectiveness, and what the hell?

"Ookaay," Tony drawled. "Where'd you get them?"

Loki scowled at him. "I found them out here. Abandoned."

And Tony's forehead mirrored his scowl, because there'd been so much weight in the last word, more than just Loki proving to be a puzzle, an enigma, once again, so much more than should have been allowed for a single word to carry.

"I didn't know you were the type to save homeless kitties. Do you sell scout cookies, too?"

"Stark." Loki's mouth stretched into a sweeeet smile. "Would you do me a favour? Lean closer so I don't have to get up to strangle you?"

Tony had a history of foolish, dangerous, even a little suicidal things, but there was a line that shouldn't be crossed. Not on Christmas. On New Year, perhaps, because crossing the line always made for the best parties and a lot of bragging stuff …

He raised his hands apologetically, though. "Look, I'll just go back to my tower now, and you take the fur-balls to your supervillain's lair,"—Loki's scowl deepened, but he also averted his gaze just the slightest so it was now resting on Tony's mouth, not eyes—"or, maybe not the lair. Just wherever. To some not-so-lair-like hiding place."

He saw Loki pout a little even as he wrapped his arms tighter around him, and Tony looked at him. Really looked. Maybe it wasn't just a play of shadows that made his complexion even paler or cheeks sharper, maybe the two dark spots were there because of the hollowness of his cheeks that was just a bit too prominent to be attributed to his bone structure only. Maybe his eyes didn't just seem less biting because of the softness of snowflakes.

"You … don't have a place."

"No."

"Jeesh, you're gonna freeze out here!"

Loki's chortle had all the sharpness of broken glass. "No," he said again. "Think of it as a part of my heritage."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "Really? Thor always complains about cold."

Obviously not the wisest choice of words; Loki's expression darkened, somehow closed off and cracked at the same time, and Tony found himself really wondering for the first time what had happened between the two gods. He'd been somewhat interested from the beginning, but the opportunity to ask had never really appeared; Thor had to be approached directly, and there'd been no time during the fight. Then he'd gone to Asgard, and after he'd come back with the news for the team and SHIELD, saying Loki would be punished by the Allfather, nobody had wanted to think about Loki too much. His magic, that was an area Tony had allowed to let his mind wander to, for scientific purposes and such, but the family history of a crazy demigod was not really a thing he would usually ponder over. Although … the only thing that had seemed crazy about him was his trying to rule Earth. Other than that …

"Well, I'm not Thor," snapped Loki, and ouch, Tony's must have hit a sore spot.

"No, of course not."

And maybe that hadn't been the wisest thing to say, either. Mental note, Loki didn't hate Thor only when the blonde was standing in his why while he was trying to subdue a planet.

Another mental note, he should not be getting nervous under Loki's scrutinizing glare. Wow, two mental notes already, he should buy a mental whiteboard and a handful of magnets to keep them all in one place.

Okay, wrong thoughts. Forget mental whiteboards. Mental whatever. Loki's staring was getting painful.

"I mean…" He let the genius part of the brain look for a solution. It was simple: find X. X always solved everything. "You're not Thor. Nobody is Thor … Just Thor. We're all … um, different. One of a king and all this shit."

"Stark."

Now that was an awful lot of tired in here, and he couldn't be _that_ hard to listen to.

"Shut up."

"Yeah, about that … See, it's one of the rare things I'm not good at. Like teamwork or following the rules. Ask Fury. Or maybe not, it's Christmas. He'd strangle me if you bothered him now."

Whatever the reason, some tension dissipated from Loki's shoulders. His eyes softened. His voice, too. "What is Christmas?"

And Tony had to smile. He'd never thought he'd hear anyone ask that. Christmas was Christmas, just there, something they all knew, what did it matter where the focus of their attention lay, it was normal like life, like breathing.

"It's a holiday," he said, trying to shift his weights because he was getting cramps in his left leg, but the attempt threw him out of balance, and the only thing he could do save to throw his arms through the air like an idiot was to grab Loki, close a hand around the wrist that was resting on the said-guy's knee, and, oh great, that threw him out of balance, too, and he ended up with his knees in snow.

An amused expression crossed Loki's face. There were occasions when Tony would smile at his own clumsiness, too. Not now.

"Do tell me," he started (not wide-eyed, not even a bit), "this cold thing I can feel _through_ my gloves is not your hand."

He expected Loki to snatch his hand away and snap at him, but the other not only did not move, he actually looked just this side of shy (Loki! Shy!).

"I said I shan't freeze," he said grudgingly, "not that I can't feel the cold."

True. Who would have thought, the God of Lies speaking the truth. Okay, maybe not the best train of thought. He did have a habit of spoiling every situation with some inappropriate comment flashing through his head. Sometimes he wished he didn't.

"Look, my legs are killing me. They were not made for that much crouching, thank you very much. I had to stretch them, or they'll fall of. Which, not cool. So why don't we walk a little, and I'll explain Christmas to you, hum?"

How he managed to file away the fact Loki was capable of what seemed like sincere befuddlement and simultaneously almost not think about anything when he gripped Loki's hand (and it fitted, it shouldn't have fitted) and tried to pull him on his feet, was beyond him. The god apparently got the idea, albeit his expression was still a tiny bit suspicious, and allowed himself to be pulled up (magic or not, Tony was painfully aware he couldn't force Loki into moving if the latter didn't cooperate).

It was only after they'd been standing in silence for a while that Tony realised something was expected from him and stopped observing the snow. It seemed so gentle, with its elegant movement, so feather-light. Pure.

"So …" he started. "Have you seen the Rockefeller?"

Loki arched one perfect eyebrow in a wordless question.

"I'll take that as a no. C'mon." He tugged at the sleeve of Loki's free hand. "I wanted to go there anyway. Supposed to be a big deal. Christmas tree and skating ring and all. Terribly crowded during the day."

"You have these … trees everywhere," Loki said slowly. Did he even know he hadn't torn his sleeve out of Tony's grip yet?

"Yeah. It's sort of a tradition. See, there's this religion here … One of many, actually, but most common around here. Well, the God's son was born on Christmas to die later and save humanity from sin."

Loki was silent for a second. When he spoke, it was slowly and Tony could hear thoughts racing behind his every word.

"He … did not do a very good job then."

"Hey, I'm not an expert. All this religion stuff, it's another thing on the Tony-Stark-does-not-do list. But it's not about people not sinning anymore, it's supposed to be about forgiveness. So … Yeah.

"Although all the kitsch you see around here, most of it is for profit only. Like Santa. The fat, old guy in red and white? Yeah. Coca-Cola borrowed him from legends and … That doesn't make much sense, does it?"

He glanced at Loki, who shrugged once. Tony's hand slipped a little lower.

"Let's see, how to make something as simple as Christmas simple …" He took in the shop windows, decoration all over the streets, advertisements for discounts, the whole little world of the Fifth Avenue, and shook his head without noticing.

"Christmas is for Good," he said at last. "Things like, like forgiveness, and generosity, and … It has some kind of a spirit, you know?" When had they stopped walking? "People give each other presents. It's the time they spent with their beloved ones."

He had to, he just had to look at Loki, to see if he got it, if a supervillain could understand such a concept, only he couldn't remember anymore why he would call Loki that, and then he wished he hadn't looked, because Loki was returning the gaze, and his eyes said too much, so why couldn't Tony understand, it wasn't like he'd never seen anything similar, but this was Loki, and his eyes were sad and so much more that Tony didn't comprehend, but he knew Loki got it, and maybe it would be better if he didn't, because the billionaire didn't want that look on him. It made him think that, somehow, it had been there all along, just without the words to point it out, or somebody to pay attention to it, which wasn't true. Right? Right.

He diverted his gaze. What else should he have done?

"So," he moved to pick up the pace again, "what are you planning to do with the cats?"

He thought maybe he'd heard Loki inhale a little sharper than usually, and if he had to tug his sleeve to pull him along that was perfectly normal; even gods were allowed to get lost in thoughts every now and then.

Loki flinched back to reality, moved his feet to catch up to Tony. His reply was curt.

"Keep them alive."

"Mhm. Sounds like a good plan. Better than ruling the Earth."

Loki's eyes narrowed. It was too dark to see their real colour; they only looked black.

"If you think I am powerless, you are very much mistaken, Stark. Or very arrogant to think so highly of yourself. You don't have your shinny suit."

That struck a nerve. Because, stupid deities. He had so many better things to do than take a walk with a god who was just looking for opportunities to lash out at him.

"And _I_ don't have to stick around here," he snapped. "There's a warm bed waiting for me. A couple of them to choose from, actually. So yeah, I won't let them wait much longer, and you can go curl up somewhere with your cats and die."

He turned on his heels (his father had always hated when he'd done that, because it was followed by Tony's storming away in a child's tantrum as a rule), the movement pulling his hand far away from Loki, and made an angry step in the opposite direction. He managed two more before an icy hand closed around his forearm and he was swirled around again. Blinking, he found himself staring straight into a pair of big, wild eyes that allowed him to see deeper than he was supposed to. They were close for a moment. Then Loki let go, taking a step backwards, while his mask slipped back on. He was so good at fashioning a smug expression in situations when it had _no_ place on his face.

"I would much rather see the tree," he said. The smile ghosting over his lips reminded Tony on their encounter in his penthouse. Or better still, on Loki. Of course this was the same Loki here, but at the same time … it wasn't?

"I thought you would," he returned the smugness.

"Show me then." Loki dug his free hand into a pocket, fisted.

Tony nodded. They moved again (if they continued at this pace, they would just reach the Rockefeller by New Year). Questions had formed inside Tony's head, yet he didn't ask. Cats were the safest conversation topic he could think of, and wasn't that sad, he was Tony Fucking Stark, for god's sake! Or … not a god's.

"But really," he said therefore, "why _did_ you pick up the kitties?"

"I told you." Loki's voice was not particularly nice, but it still lacked the real edge. "They were left to die."

"Look, I get it. You just don't strike me as the type to save kitties. They're just … kitties. No offense here, I cherish my life despite what it looks like."

Loki snorted. "Of course they're just kitties! Their deaths would mean nothing to humanity. But like this," his voice softened, "there's a chance they might become something of a meaning to somebody."

"Didn't think you were much of a philosophy guy either," Tony blurted, not really giving it a second thought. Or the first one.

And Loki smacked him.

Tony's head was thrown to a side, mouth opening, his body followed a little. His hand covered his throbbing cheek on its own as he glared at Loki's back. He had no idea why he'd deserved this _now_. Besides, his mind was preoccupied with the fact that, of all the things Loki could have done, he'd smacked him.

It hurt like a bitch.

"What the hell was that for?!" Indignation was painted on every vowel.

Loki looked over his shoulder. "That," he hissed, "was for pushing it. I'm contemplating doing some other things to you for thinking you know anything about me."

"All I said till now was what I _didn't_ think about—okay, okay, sorry."

They seriously needed to keep walking.

"I'll try to spare you my comments."

"Don't hurt yourself."

"Now you're concerned for my wellbeing? How kind."

"Let me guess, another thing you didn't think me capable of?"

Loki's glare was so stubborn. More than that, too. Curse the darkness, Tony wanted to read those eyes, study them, because they were something he didn't understand, and he took all the things that he didn't understand apart. Wait until he got to the brain behind … It could have been the most fascinating thing he'd ever got the opportunity to study …

He sighed. "I said I was sorry. Let's just walk, okay?"

Why was he even bothering? It was Christmas, and this was Loki, and it wasn't like he'd wanted to take a walk with him. Trying to not let them be mean to each other was nothing he'd ever planned. It could be that brain again … Trying to get close enough for just a sneak-peek.

It could be something else.

It could be the sole fact he didn't know, for he just had to find out now.

They continued in silence, with snow still falling on them. Loki's hair was soaked already, but right now Tony paid more attention to the way the fronts of his shoes disturbed the smooth surface of the puffy, white layer. They'd fallen into pace anyway. With his lack of brain-to-mouth filter and Loki's sharp tongue, silence was probably the better option.

Seconds passed by in time with snowflakes, Tony's breath coming out as mist. He could practically feel movement keeping him warm, but his hands still felt cold, so he pushed them into his pockets. He raised his head a little despite the extra cold his face got exposed to, and was greeted by the sight of Rockefeller Plaza, the Christmas tree looming in its usual place.

"Here we are," he said. Loki just nodded; his gaze was turned into the direction Tony had pointed in. His face betrayed nothing.

"Well, let's go up to it." Tony nudged him in the arm. This time the Trickster followed without being pulled behind, and a part of Tony wondered whether that should be considered an improvement, or if this whole thing should not be wondered about at all.

Nonetheless, they ended up right under the tree. It was strange, the lack of people everywhere; where there were usually masses, now walked only a couple of lone figures and couples. Almost like he'd taken a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in a different city. It seemed Christmas was an even more special occasion than he'd thought.

He still had to crane his neck to look up at this tree; some things never changed. Not like his tree had. Forget the decoration, it wasn't even in the same place, much less surrounded by the same people. The Avengers were a good family, but he found himself longing for a time when he was still young enough his parents would have a little time for him, for his mother's embrace when he'd run to her excited over this great present he'd just got and how smart Santa was that he always knew what little kids wanted, he missed the smell Christmas had had at home, and how he would ask to keep the Christmas tree out just another day when they should have really thrown it away already …

He hardly noticed the pressure at first. It came after him a few seconds later, nearly making him flinch, and he realised Loki's hand was resting on his shoulder.

He watched Loki notice him notice, watched Loki watch him for a reaction, but there was none; as much as it was strange, the small weight of his hand felt kind of comforting. Come to think of, in its basis that was a comforting gesture.

Tony did frown now. Loki appeared to search his face for the meaning behind the gesture, as if unsure of what to do, then slowly lifted his hand and offered a little sheepishly,

"You seemed distressed."

"Yeah. I ... um, kind of was, I guess?" He shrugged. "It's got nothing to do with you." Some random part of him had forced the words past his lips. "Not now, at least. So, um, thank you?"

"You're welcome," Loki muttered, looking down. "What … were you distressed about?"

Wow, and wasn't that the world record, Tony had been able to exchange more than two sentences with the god without bickering. Impressive. Almost like they were leading a normal conversation.

"I was thinking about the past," he admitted. Why the hell was he telling this to _Loki_? "What Christmas was like then, before it started to suck. We were always a family on Christmas, but then … Like I said, it sucked. Year after year. Not so much tonight. Tonight was nice. But it got me thinking … Things were different back then. Like … Like we used candles instead of electric lights. And now it's just … this."

He crouched to pick up a small bulb that had somehow ended on the ground. Vandalism, probably, seeing as it wasn't the only one.

"LED lights," he said, offering the bulb to Loki, who hesitantly took it, long fingers handling it more delicately than needed. He held it up, and light hit the dark blue surface. There was an intensity in his gaze that made something in Tony's guts twist; the simple piece of blue plastic seemed to have captivated all his attention, erased the worlds around him, and blurred the edges of reality. It wasn't right.

"Loki?"

The latter started, fingers jerking involuntarily. The next second he was holding only shards.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"I broke it. I'm sorry."

Tony furrowed his brow a little and then some more, watching Loki stare at the pieces in his hand. Bickering he could deal with. This … was either a very successful lie with some underhanded purpose, or something was wrong.

"You all right?"

The god nodded. His didn't move his gaze for a millimetre.

"You sure?"

Another slow nod.

"Look, I know you're a liar and all, you'd get a job the moment you'd set foot into Hollywood, trust me, and I might be falling straight into some kind of a trap, but you don't look so good."

"I believe you just told me I'd get a job in Hollywood. Changed your mind?" A dry smile, hell, a parched smile, and he still didn't look.

"No, Loki, it's a figure of—"

"_Don't_ say that!" Loki's head snapped up. Something livid lurked deep in his eyes. "I know what it is!"

"What did I say now?" Tony lifted his palms in surrender, but his voice carried an offensive undertone. "Are you upset over a Christmas light?"

"I am not!" Loki hissed, reminding on a venomous snake too much, but he could as well have said he was currently lying on a beach in Malibu.

"Why? It was just a light."

"I told you I'm not." He threw the pieces to the ground, his gaze following them and pulling his head down as well.

Tony sighed. "Fine. Then what are you upset about?"

He saw Loki's lips purse. "I am not upset."

"And I am not convinced."

This was wrong, this wasn't Loki, he was supposed to be parading around with an ego the size of Milky Way, an infuriating smirk on his face, and cheekbones that could cut diamonds. Oh, right, he still had those. But this was all wrong. This was everything the world never ought to see. From anyone. Because some things only belonged behind four walls.

Only …

Well, Loki had a lot of walls. Just not his own four walls.

He also didn't dignify Tony with an answer. So the genius billionaire (etc., etc.) mirrored Loki's earlier gesture; his hand went to rest on the god's shoulder. Muscles stiffened under his touch. Otherwise there was still no reaction. Just … Was Loki cold enough that it made his body tremble?

Well, if he said it wouldn't kill him or so …

"Loki," Tony said, noticing for the first time how the name rolled off his tongue and left the slightest aftertaste, like a rich dark wine, or maybe like scotch he liked so much that lingered in the shape of a burn. Both. Just like Loki could be both.

"If I say 'you seemed distressed' now, will you play the game?"

"And proceed to explain my take on Christmas?"

Tony imagined a smirk tugging at Loki's lips, but the latter's voice held none of the teasing mockery he'd encountered at their first confrontation in the penthouse.

It didn't matter at the moment, it couldn't. Loki was a trickster, games were in his blood, and if either of them wanted to finish this one, Tony had to make a move in accordance to the rules. Little did it help that they kept changing by the minute.

"What would you tell me?"

Loki tilted his head, so that he was looking at the Christmas tree again. It was the only motion he made, apart from the slight trembling of his body, which meant Tony's hand was somehow still resting on his shoulder.

"It's for people." Loki's tenor was even and steady, but if there was not an undertone to it, Tony was willing to take every single bottle of alcohol he owned and empty it into a sink.

"Well, yeah." He tried to keep it going. "We're the only race that celebrates it."

"Yet you are not with 'your loved-ones'."

It wasn't a question. Tony would be a fool to pretend otherwise. Images of an orange arose in his mind.

"No." He shook his head slightly. A bit of snow slid off his hood. "But I was. They gave me a Christmas after so long … And I came out here to share it with the ones who used to give it me but no longer can."

He had a feeling Loki somehow knew that. It was common knowledge that Tony's parents were dead.

"You won't find them out here."

Soft, and sad, and Loki _knew_.

"No, I won't." Tony knew, too. There was only one place he could ever find them. He had simply needed to go out, get some air. "I didn't think I would. In fact, I didn't think I'd find anybody. The streets are deserted."

"Not completely."

True. But what was a person here and there compared to the usual bustling of the crowd? Pursuing this topic made no sense.

"You're cold," he said instead.

Loki shrugged; Tony could feel his bony shoulder move under his palm.

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"Why ask, Stark, it's nothing you can change."

Tony frowned, opening his mouth, but Loki beat him. "What did you give them?"

"Hm?"

"You said mortals exchanged gifts, did you not?"

"Oh, that! Some trips to nice places for Clint and Tasha, and Pep and Coulson …"

"He lives."

"Yeah. Made it through. Barely. Just don't go killing him again. Come to think of, don't go killing anybody, especially not me all of a sudden, I'd like to live a few more years, thank you very much for taking that into consideration. Not that I'm complaining, I'm not complaining, but why am I not lying dead in some ally already?"

Loki stiffened. "I haven't a death wish," he whispered, just this side of audible, sending a shiver of unease down Tony's spine.

"You okay?" the man asked on an impulse.

"Yes, Stark." The voice of a king. "Although your concern for my wellbeing would be touching if it wasn't so irritating."

Tony could have snorted at that. Would have, too, if he didn't suspect very strongly that he'd just been lied to by the God of Lies—how surprising was that—and, well, maybe if he wasn't just a tiny little bit worried. Very tiny little bit.

Staring at the back of Loki's head any longer reeked of futile. Tony wanted truth, because truth explained how things worked, and if he needed to reach trough Loki's eyes and literally pull out the how-Loki-works manual, he would do it. (He preferred less nasty ways, though.)

A short step brought him to Loki's side, close enough to reach out, cup the god's cheek with one gloved hand, and slowly but determinately turn his face towards himself.

True, he hadn't expected to be thrown over the Christmas tree, but he had thought Loki would push him away. Instead, he found the god's eyes closed, his whole body trembling just the slightest, and he leaned, _leaned_, into Tony's touch. The latter stared. Then Loki's eyes snapped open, and he recoiled as if bitten by a snake. One of the kitties mewed, a sound that tugged at Tony's heart (he would never admit it, ever). Loki shifted his arms.

Tony sighed. "I don't care what you claim, you are going to freeze out here."

Loki pouted stubbornly. "I won't."

Stubborn to a fault.

"Okay. Okay, you won't. What of the kittens, though?"

Loki's gaze dropped to the small shapes shivering under his coat. "I'll keep them alive."

"They need a place to stay."

"They,"—Loki looked up, staring into Tony's eyes, _through_ Tony's eyes right into his soul—"need a place to belong."

"That's what I said."

"You didn't."

"Yeah, I did."

"There's a difference."

"No, there isn't."

"Yes, it is.

Once again there was more weight behind his word that should have been allowed.

"Although …"

"Yeah?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing what?"

"Nothing. I suppose … I'd like to see them again."

Aww, and wasn't that cute.

"Look." Tony shifted, trying to get some warmth back to his legs. "If you swear you won't kill me or harm me or anyone around, you can come to my tower to melt your frozen ass, and I'll get something for the little guys to eat. I mean …" Tony diverted his gaze. "It's Christmas and all. And I wouldn't want more deaths on my conscience. So,"—he stuffed his hands deeper into his coat pockets—"yeah."

What the hell? He had _not_ just invited Loki over. He had not. Tony Stark didn't do that, and he opened his mouth to tell him he changed his mind, but something stopped him. It was impossible to tell what. Maybe the way snow lay on Loki's head, or the way his fingers were digging into his upper arms, or maybe how his whole face screamed _I don't understand. _And then the look changed to _I don't trust you _faster than Steve could scold him for cursing, because his offer did have _trap_ written all over.

"No hidden agenda," he added. "I'll tell nobody of your presence, you can leave whenever you want, unharmed, no tracker or anything, SHIELD will never know about this. I'll promise all that if you swear not to hurt anybody." He tried to make his looking away seem nonchalant. "So? What do you say?"

He could practically hear the gears turning inside Loki's head. It was a stupid offer, Tony'd admit that. No more conversing with the demigod after drinking—

Oh, God, they really were conversing, weren't they? Christmas miracle?

He'd never decided whether he believed in miracles. There's been a time when a "no" would smoothly slide off his tongue. Now? Not so fast. What he'd survived …

But he didn't have the courage to say yes. Believing would lead to hoping, hoping to disappointments, it was how his world worked. He'd maybe thought his relationship with Pepper a kind of a miracle. The outcome was hardly surprising. (He wanted her to be happy still. She deserved it.)

In the end, he'd still be forced to say no. There were no miracles, only weird Christmas-night situations.

"I accept."

Loki's voice was reality calling him back.

"But should you break your promise, I will find a way to destroy you."

Tony shrugged. "It's either a lose-lose or a win-win situation. Guess we both have reasons to keep our words."

"Perhaps. But I still don't trust you."

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't trust you either." Tony brushed snow off his hood. "C'mon."

Wrapping his arms around himself tighter, Loki glanced at the broken LED light on the ground once more before hurrying to fall into step with Tony.

They walked in silence. A couple walked past, definitely having seen more sober days before. Snow crunched underfoot. The crossed a street.

"How long have you been of Earth anyway?" asked Tony when he became thoroughly irritated by Loki's constantly walking half a step behind. He didn't even know why it annoyed him, it just did.

"Does it matter?"

"I suppose not." Breath turned to mist, twirling like a cigarette's smoke. Who would have thought, there _was_ one bad thing one could do to oneself that Tony Stark didn't engage in. Did they smoke in Asgard? The thought of Loki, dressed as he was plus the shiny armour, holding a cigarette, almost made him smile.

"Will you tell me, though?"

"Depends. How desperate are you to know?"

"Not at all."

"Pity. I rather hoped you wouldn't be afraid of a good bargain."

"My ass you did."

"I also hoped we could keep your ass out of it."

_Damn _god! This was headed in a completely wrong direction. But Tony couldn't back out. He would never.

"I think my ass is totally worth the attention."

"You think to highly of yourself."

"Well, _my_ ass did not get kicked half a year ago. Whereas _yours_ did. Hard."

He heard Loki start saying something that would have probably turned out to be a snarky reply, but the god never got past the first two letters. Scowling, he looked at his feet. Snow was slowly melting on his skin, droplets trailing down his neck and under the collar.

That seemed to be the way their banters went, from teasing mockery to tense silence.

Tony sighed. "Fine. I'll bargain."

He wondered if Loki smirked at that. The bastard was still half a step behind, maybe just so he could annoy Tony, who hated looking backwards. He'd had a close encounter with traffic signs a few times too many.

"What can you offer?"

It didn't actually matter, not in this game. Bargaining itself did.

"You get to warm your sorry ass in my tower?"

"Leave my ass out of it. And no to that."

"It's a valid offer."

"Part of a deal made beforehand, nothing more."

"You're just sore 'cause I mentioned your ass."

Loki hissed. "What is it with you and your fascination with behinds?"

"Look, just because nobody has ever been fascinated with _your_ ass, doesn't mean _mine_ isn't great."

Loki's face shut down, becoming a façade of everything and nothing. Even his eyes were suddenly hidden by some sort of a mask. There was no way to read him.

"All right," he said impassively. "We've established you have a great ass. If this is the only thing one can discuss with you, you are a sorry excuse of a genius indeed."

Tony swallowed a retort. It seemed everything was always personal when Loki was involved.

"I'll give you food. No? Drinks? Drugs? What _do_ you want?"

Only silence answered him, and he glanced over his shoulder, hoping traffic signs would be kind to him. In that moment, he'd be willing to bet all his money Loki was lost in thoughts, memories perhaps. How he wished he could see inside the god's head …

"A penny for your thoughts?"

Green eyes (dark, actually, the colour was just a product of his mind) lifted. "You can't have my thoughts, Stark," Loki said sharply, defensively. Then more quietly, "You can't have that."

He should be put into a cheesy Hollywood movie. Only then he'd have to deliver the lines more dramatically, with a tragic, torn expression, and to some beautiful girl, words like _No, not my thoughts, please, they are all I have left, I'm begging you, leave me this one last thing …_ Nah, Loki would never sound like that. He had a way of making things simple when he wanted. Sure,he did have a streak for dramatising, and overly so, but that was much too cheesy.

Wait, wait, wait. The main reason would be because it wasn't true, forget the style. But Loki was a liar …

Okay, no more mixing the Trickster and Hollywood.

"Can I have an answer then?"

"Why?"

"I'm curious."

"Three days."

Oh. "And, um, what have you been doing?"

"That is not for you to know."

"If you say so … And until you got here?"

Loki pressed his lips together. His expression was mostly hidden, because his head was bowed; one of the kittens was shifting, making that heart-wrenching sound that made Tony want to cradle it again.

"Okay," he said instead. "I suppose that can be an answer, too. You feel like talking about _anything_?"

"I don't know."

And that took him by surprise, since as far as he knew people either wanted to talk or they didn't, or just didn't mind, but even then they knew they had no particular wish and were not truly against it either.

"M-hm. I just thought, I don't know, it's silent." And Loki had a pleasant voice. A soft lull sometimes, sharp edges other times, slight British accent. Smooth.

"I'm guessing you like cats?"

There, that was neutral enough, wasn't it?

"Pretty much."

"Uh-huh. I've never had a cat. Or any other animal. My parent wouldn't let me, I didn't want it later. I'm not sure Pepper would allow me to have one now, she'd probably be worried sick I'd forget about it and let it die. I know I forget to eat _sometimes_, but some on, that's totally different. I wouldn't just let a pet die! Well, especially not if it meowed or barked loud enough. Who knows, maybe I could teach a cat to place dead mice at Fury's feet if he came over. Or birds. There might be birds on the roof. I don't have mice anywhere. Except if there's a business selling them. It's probably not very successful. I remember when I was still in primary school, there was this kid who had a cat at home, big and orange. A hunter. He brought a dead mouse to school once. Left it on the teacher's chair, so she sat right on it. She shrieked like a little girl, really, and …"

He went on with the story, and then started to consider if teaching a dog to pee on Fury's shoes would be a better idea. It was easy to talk like that, silly stories and bad ideas. But after a while he noticed Loki's silence. Not that he hadn't before, but he became aware now. There should have been "mhm"s and "yeah"s somewhere.

They'd reached the tower by now. Pushing the back door open, Tony quietly ordered Jarvis not to make footage of this and held the door long enough for Loki to slip in. The contrast between his pale skin and dark crescents under his eyes was even more obvious now that there was light caressing his face.

"You okay?"

The elevator door opened with a silent hiss. Loki entered without a word, which was an answer by itself.

"You're not, "Tony concluded out loud anyway. "You know, if you told me what's wrong, I might be able to help you."

"Or you might not be." _Do you think it's that simple_ spoke his eyes. Tony almost told them no.

"Or you could simply refuse," Loki added.

"Try me."

The glare was icy. "Do not pretend you care one bit! You just don't know what to do with yourself, because your so called family abandoned you when you were supposed to be together!"

If they were not in an elevator, Tony would have walked away immediately. How dared he. How. Dared he. He opened his mouth to shout, and cruse, and kick him out, but the moment he sucked in a breath, words faded away.

"You're wrong," he said. His hands weren't even clenched into fists. This was the truth, and he knew it. For once, he didn't have to hide. "This was the best Christmas I've had in years. They didn't abandon me. They have people who are important to them, and worthy of their time. There will always be a time when they'll go home, but leaving doesn't mean abandoning. Demanding all of their time would be selfish and unnecessary."

Loki stood like a marble statue, a dark shape against the mirror wall. His expression was closed off. His defence mechanism, Tony had figured that much out, but he still wanted to know what was behind. Rage? Agitation? Sadness? His eyes were walls, holding back on ocean, but of what?

They didn't talk until they reached the top floor. The penthouse was exactly as Tony'd left it, dark, empty, silent. Jarvis switched on the lights, the billionaire took of his coat and nonchalantly threw it over the back of the nearest couch.

"Food or shower?" Tony kicked off his boots, glimpsing at Loki, who was standing beside the elevator like a shadow. The latter shrugged.

"Shower then. Come." Tony weaved his hand and led the god through a door opening into the corridor where his private rooms were located. There was only one bathroom (but it made for the lack of quantity in its size), and the only way to it through the bedroom.

"That's it. You'll find towels in the cupboard. There should be a robe somewhere, too. Shampoos are in the shower, just choose whichever one you like."

Loki, who had yet to say something after his verbal attack in the elevator, nodded shortly. Tony did, too, about to walk out, but he remembered something that stopped him.

"Give me the kitties. I'll feed them in the meantime."

Again Loki obliged without speaking. He parted what turned out to be a thin sleeveless leather coat, taking hold of one little body that he gave to Tony, who suddenly had no more trouble grasping why Loki held them like they were made of glass. The kittens were tiny, hardly a week old, the first one black as night, the second covered in grey stripes. They trembled in his hands. How could anyone be so heartless as to throw them out to die?

He didn't voice his thoughts, though; usually, when one offered a shower to someone, one didn't linger. But he did take a towel, and when he was back in the main room, he set the kitties on the counter and wrapped them into said towel.

Luckily, there was still some milk in the refrigerator. Miraculously even; Tony drank his coffee black. Anyhow, he didn't have a baby-bottle, and he had no idea where to find a suitable piece of fabric to leak the milk through. (There was probably some kind of a thing he could use in his lab, but his toys were his toys, in other words—off limit.) Maybe he could use his finders, he concluded while waiting for the milk to warm. He dipped in his index finger, then held it in front of the black kitty's snout. A tiny raspy tongue flicked over his skin, the sensation strange but not at all unpleasant. He dipped in the other forefinger as well and offered it to the other kitty. The little guys (or girls, were they girls?) should definitely be checked over by a vet …

Both were hungrily lapping droplets off his fingers when Loki appeared, dressed in his clothes—black trousers and just as black leather tunic—minus the coat, which he held in his hand together with the boots. A towel hanging around his neck prevented wet strands to get plastered on to his neck. He looked lost.

For a nanosecond, Tony considered offering him a change of clothes, but there was a whole collection of reasons that gladly chased the idea away; they'd be too small, you didn't offer clothes to SHIELD's ex-most wanted criminal, Loki could just disappear with them (what? Tony was fond of his stuff, he didn't like anyone taking it), and plainly Loki wearing his clothes was a notion that bordered on intimacy, which—no.

There, plenty of nice reasons. He could find more, too.

"Were exactly did you get them?" he asked instead, nodding towards the cats, waiting for the moment of truth—would Loki speak?

"In the park."

Well, short, but still words.

"You know, for someone called Silvertongue you sure don't speak much. Or does the nickname derive from elsewhere?"

Yes, that was _so_ called for. Really, Tony, good job.

Loki decided not to dignify it with a reply. His eyes found the Christmas tree.

"Oh. Yeah, that's my tree. A bit smaller, but at least you don't have to crane your neck. And I could buy the whole Rockefeller anytime, so. Hey, I'll turn on the Christmas lights, it looks much prettier then. If you ask me, that is."

Not that he needed to be asked. A short command given to Jarvis sufficed to get the Christmas lights turned on, and the rest off, and the whole place was left flooded with dim, somehow magical light.

Loki took a step forward, intentionally or not, who knew. He looked … touched?

Or maybe it was just a trick of light that danced over his face.

And then his gaze returned to Tony, and the genius didn't feel so smart anymore, because he had no idea what to make of those glistering emeralds. He simply did not know. They were so, so green, despite the half-darkness surrounding them, despite the lack of light, they were green and filled with _something_ to the point of overflowing, and Tony didn't know what.

He averted his gaze. The method he'd chosen for feeding the kitties may have been stupid, but it proved to be a distraction. At least the job would get done more slowly, and it was more fun also. The kitties were so fragile, so completely dependent on him in their helplessness. He couldn't remember ever being needed in the same way. Sure, there was Iron Man, saving the world, but that was different, it was faceless crowds he was saving, and they weren't completely helpless either, it was not the same. He was needed here as a person not as Iron Man, as a man not a hero.

And it felt nice, more than nice, being good enough just the way he was, not failing to meet somebody's expectations, not needing to try, to strive for more and more albeit always knowing there'd be someone to shake their heads in disapproval in the end (or in the middle, what did it matter).

Was that why his relationship with Pepper hadn't worked? Or had it been a sign it wasn't going to work, because he was supposed to feel complete, not think how things would be if he weren't Iron Man, if he didn't still get drunk from time to time, if he were more considerate, if only he were different, if only he were _right_ for her.

But he wasn't.

"You think I could ever be?" he murmured, directing it at the two fluffy balls wrapped in the towel. Only after there was nothing but silence did he realise he might have been expecting a response nonetheless. Loki was just curious enough to comment on such a question, even if he didn't feel especially talkative tonight. Come to think of it, Tony had actually forgotten to keep tabs on him … Turing your back to the God of Mischief—not good.

Tony's eyes shot around. What if Loki had broken his promise and took the opportunity to cause damage? To get revenge for his defeat? What if—

Or not. However odd the scene before him was, Loki didn't appear to be up to anything. He was lying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, unmoving, with his back to Tony, whose eyes widened a fraction in surprise. Hi picked up the towel with the kitties and walked over to the god. He nudged the latter with his toes.

No response. Tony crouched, leaning over Loki to find his eyes closed and lips parted slightly, and the orange with cloves right beside his opened palm.

"Hey, fellow. You sleeping?"

Probably; green eyes did not snap open, pale lips formed no snarky reply.

"And without dinner." Tony shook his head. Who in their right mind fell asleep on the floor, under a Christmas tree no les, when there were couched in near vicinity? Comfortable, too, he only liked the best for his ass. Or Pepper's, when they had still been…

Maybe Loki had been watching the tree before having dozed off. He _had_ seemed fascinated with the one on Rockefeller Plaza. He must have been tired, too.

Tony sighed.

"This is all crazy, you know?"

Great, he was talking to a sleeping demigod, people were right after all; visiting a psychiatrist wouldn't hurt him (he couldn't claim the same for the unfortunate doctor, though). But the said demigod was looking less like a god right now and more like …

Well. Tony may have accepted three strays into his home for the night.

Hesitantly, he reached put, knuckles ghosting over Loki's cheek; the skin was still cold.

Was Loki human now, having been banished, or still a god only without his magic tricks available? Was he even telling the truth about that?

Three dark signs were visible on the back of his right hand, stark against pale skin. In a way, they screamed to be touched. On the other hand, Tony didn't ever want to do that. Why would he anyway?

He looked away. Manhattan resembled some twisted reflection of the sky, a sea of lights but with none of the peaceful darkness, of infinity. Was Asgard somewhere out there, hiding amid the stars? It seemed abstract, the idea of a place, of gods existing in a place far away, despite the two gods being right here on Earth, nearby, and tangible, and real. How far away from home were they really?

He lay down, placing his head on his arms. Sleep was out of question, not with Loki being in the midst of the Avengers' nest, but nothing would prevent him from lying. It was late and he was tired, too.

The dark, blissful fog shifted. Somebody nudged his shoulder, and those sounds he distantly registered might have been his name. Something else followed. It resembled all the things he didn't particularly want to hear in the morning …

Oh.

Morning.

_Shit._

He opened his eyes, only to find Steve looking at him.

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Cap," he replied and pushed himself into a sitting position. "You look … awake."

"I only just got here. Why were you sleeping here?"

Awareness crept in. He was on a couch. Why was he on the couch? Where was Loki? Had the others found him?

Purposefully ignoring the fact he wasn't supposed to worried, he let his eyes flit around. He had given a promise after all. But he only found Steve, and a blanket pooling around his own hips, and a towel … with the kitties. He breathed a sigh of relief; if Loki had time to put him onto the sofa, he had surely left on his own.

"I was tired," he offered.

"Oh." Steve sat down next to him. "How was your night?" He looked at the towel.

Tony shrugged. "Subtle, are we? It appears I became a babysitter for abandoned kitties."

"Where did you find them?"

"I went for a walk." An omission was not a lie, right? He scratched a tiny grey paw. "They'll need to be washed and checked by a vet."

Steve patted the other kitten's head. "They're so scrawny. I never thought you'd be the guy to save homeless kittens. But you saved their lives."

Tony averted his gaze. Guilt bit him in the face.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "Funny, the things we don't think about one another."

Steve may or may not have frowned at that; Tony had yet to look at him. His eyes picked up something else instead. He stroke the black kitty this time, pushed his hand further into the towel, then moved away and got to his feet. His fingers were closed around a piece of paper as he walked towards the Christmas tree.

"Have you named them yet?"

This was automatically assuming he would keep them. But really, how much choice did he have? His heart wouldn't let him give them away, even to a shelter, not after he'd held them, felt their pulse race and their tongues on his skin. But he hadn't saved their lives, and even if they were his now, they weren't his to name. He hadn't thought he was what Loki'd had in mind when he'd said they needed a place, and then there was the matter of the little "I'd like to see them again", and for some reason the prospect of Loki reappearing wasn't as appalling as it perhaps should have been. It was, kind of, sort of, a tiny bit thrilling. Maybe. On good days. On very good day. Maybe not. But he should be the one to name the kittens, not Tony.

"No." He bent to pick up the orange lying there. "Give it some time."

"Ah."

Tony shifted the orange in his hands, his back to Steve, and while it seemed he was looking at it, his eyes were focused on the little piece of paper.

Two black words were scribbled on it.

_Merry Christmas._

Tony put the orange back under the tree. It belonged there. He smiled softly.

"Merry Christmas to you, too."

He heard Steve say, "You said that already," clearly confused, but he shook his head and headed for the bathroom, leaving his teammate with a chance to ponder over his confusing behaviour.

* * *

A/N: So, um, about Loki ... I imagine his magic is very much a part of him, and he would suffer from its loss a lot. Let's say losing it is like losing a sense for normal people. Also, and maybe that can be seen from the story, he's attracted to Stark. In case I ever continue this, it will become more apparent.

Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2: April 26

A/N: Obviously, I decided to continue this thing. I couldn't have people have it under alerts and not write any more, that's just ... Dunno. So I would like to thank everybody who has dropped a review, or put this under alerts or favourites, you're all awesome.

I can't promise regular updates, though. Not that I won't try, but chapters are going to vary in lenght a lot, and consequently the time I'll need to write them (cuz I want one chapter to be one day. Or a part of a day). I'm also working on that other story, which is now up as well.

* * *

**April 26****th**

_Through the day and through the night with dragons heart the warrior strikes  
This is the day that they'll be known as my enemy_

_~Dragon Force, Black Fire_

Forget a glass of champagne with a lovely blonde whose legs were longer than a highway, dealing with huge, repulsive monsters that trampled everything in their path was much closer to what he imagined a perfect Friday night would be like. Go figure.

Tony stared at the street beneath him. His vision wasn't bothered by descending darkness too much, but he couldn't claim the same for Clint and Natasha, who were fighting along some dozen SHIELD agents. Or had been; those things didn't want to stay together, forcing the agents to split, too.

They'd tried to contact Thor immediately after the creatures had appeared but to no avail, and Fury had lived up to his name. Well, that was nothing new. Tony didn't have enough fingers to count on all times he'd seen the director pissed off. And maybe he had something to do with it more often than not, but it really wasn't his fault the guy had anger-management issues.

Steve and Bruce weren't in the area, either. Steve, feeling nostalgic, had taken a trip to Europe. Bruce was somewhere in South America, and rumours had it he wasn't alone. For once Tony hoped rumours were true. He also wished Thor were in Manhattan, not on some escapade in wilderness with his girl. Or _on_ his girl. How was that fair when Tony had been almost literally dragged away from his bar and the stool with the blonde?

Not that they couldn't handle things without Thor. Because they totally could. Tony just wished there was someone he could complain to; no matter how much his relationship with the two assassins had improved, they still pinned him with the oh-shut-up-Stark look much too often. Or, Natasha did and Clint copied it to stay in her good graces. He knew how to complain, too, perfectly well.

Tony flew downwards, firing his repulsors. One of the beasts howled unpleasantly as blood gushed out of its hind leg, and slammed its giant antlers against the wall of the nearest building. So much for trying to avoid collateral damage.

That was the problem with these things: they weren't really here to fight, but once you started shooting at them they went batshit crazy. SHIELD agents were forced to scatter more and more by the minute, and even Tony couldn't deal with all the creatures if he had to play hide and seek with them first (or not so much hide) and then a game of catch as well while trying to keep an eye on the assassin-couple (What? He didn't want them dead). But then they were forced to separate as well, and Tony couldn't split himself in two.

A blast hit the nearest thing (animal? They had to be some kind of animals?) in the chest, throwing it down the street where people scattered like sparrows. Tony fired once more, just to make sure the beast (animal, Tony, animal) was dead. He didn't particularly want to kill them, but any other options were seriously limited.

A woman nearby told her friend she was going to throw up. The billionaire shook his head. This was New York, for go—eh, whoever's sake, people should have learnt to disappear the moment they sniffed trouble. Unless they were like him, too damn curious for his own good. And yeah, the city _had_ been peaceful for nearly a year (robberies did not count. Neither did petty little groups of criminals). Since Loki's siege, actually …

Loki.

Tony swallowed. He would never admit the first thing on his mind when agent Hill had called him had been the lean, dark demigod with too green eyes. Well, maybe he would if pressed enough. He wasn't so naïve as to think nothing could make him speak. But he hoped there was one information he could hold back and bury somewhere so deep even he would never have to think about it: the small pang of fear that had shot through his chest at the thought Loki might be the man behind the current mess.

Tony had seen many things in his life, but he still had trouble seeing Loki as a conqueror and the man who saved homeless kitties at the same time. It just didn't work, almost like there were two Lokis, the one on the battlefield in his shiny armour and cape, and then the one who fell asleep on the floor because he was too tired to wait for food.

But they had to fit together somehow. Both sides of Loki he'd seen up till now could only be pieces of one whole, and pieces always fit together like a puzzle (unless they'd been cruelly broken and their edges jagged beyond repair, but then you just had to accept the holes as parts of the picture, and it somehow still worked as a whole).

Nobody had mentioned Thor's not- brother, though. There were things running wild in Manhattan, that was all there was to know, and Tony could only wonder whether they'd all thought of Loki for a moment while they still allowed their speculations free rein. Surely Clint had, Clint, who now faced three bea—um, animals on his own, and Tony furiously flew towards him, stretching his arm out to shoot …

The impact knocked him back. He hit the ground hard, rolled a couple of times, asphalt mercilessly meeting his head.

A grunt escaped his lips, but it was drowned out by a roar above him. A huge head with even larger antlers filled his vision, dust rose under heavy hooves. Jarvis didn't even have time to inform him all was well with the suit before Tony took off into the air.

"Sir. To your right."

A group of civilians was clutched against the windows of a coffee shop, less than twenty feet away from Clint, who stubbornly stood his ground between them and the be—an—ah, who cared, the beasts, even though he'd run out of arrows and had to reach for the gun.

Tony tried to blast the creatures away, but he had descended too much and the one previously occupied with him almost hit him with its tail, forcing him to change direction, so his blast crashed into the nearest wall instead. Almost at the same time, he saw Clint roll over the ground, stopping in an undignified heap, his gun some four or five feet away, he heard a few shrieks from the group of civilians, and cursed them for attracting attention. Aiming quickly, he fired.

The bloody explosion was not enjoyable in any way. Even if it had been, Tony wouldn't have had time to revel in it. The other two creatures were still there, and they were both staring at the unconscious Clint with mad black eyes.

"Fuck."

He fired, but did it too fast, not accurate enough, and he missed, the shot only brushing the first beast's front leg. Next thing he knew, those black eyes were looking at _him_, _and not good not good not good_ … He could dodge—and he did—but Clint …

Tony thought he saw a shadow move. He pivoted, flying between the creature's legs to gain access to the SHILED agent, and managed to squint the right way. The shadow proved to be a tall, lean form of a man who had darted from somewhere (one of the civilians who were in serious danger of becoming permanently attached to the stupid wall?), grabbed the discarded gun, and faced the beast with firmness like he did it every day, holding the gun with both hands and aiming upwards which in turn forced his shoulders up to his jaw and pulled his leather jacket with them.

Tony barely avoided another hit. Yeah, he should have fired already, and he prepared to, trying to keep an eye on the foolish civilian as well. The man had to be stupid; he didn't fire, and then the beast rose to its hind legs, and Tony realised the man had been waiting, because in that moment shots rang out, bullets burying themselves into the juncture of the creature's jaw and neck, joined by the quiet hiss of Tony's repulsors that killed "his opponent" on the spot. The other thing let out an animalistic howl as blood gushed down its neck, and, lost in the fury of its last moments, rose again. Both its front hooves slammed into the man's chest. The latter all but flew backwards, rolled over the ground once, twice, and remained lying. The next moment, Tony's repulsors eliminated the beast's brain.

"Jarvis, scan Clint's vitals, now."

"Right away, sir."

Tony sighed. The situation could still be categorized as _not good not good not good_.

"Everything is fine, sir."

"Good."

When Tony finally landed, it was beside the stranger. He felt a heavy weight pressing on his shoulders. What kind of heroes let civilians die because they were protecting them? Little did it help he did not consider himself a hero.

He would have opened his faceplate if not for the dark. Now, he just knelt down. His hand found the guy's shoulder, gauntlet brushing against a ponytail of dark hair in the process. A gurgling sound reached his ears and then a pained moan as he rolled the person onto his back.

He would have remained silent if he could, if he didn't need to speak to make Jarvis follow his commands, would have remained silent and just kept staring.

There you go, Tony Stark, another puzzle piece for you.

And then he wished he wasn't in a situation where being silent was the only reasonable thing to do, because one didn't talk to those who probably wouldn't respond, and he wished this right here, Loki pale as death, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe, eyes shut tightly, wasn't some kind of a twisted mirror image of the last time he'd seen the god, silent, and peaceful, and asleep.

"Jarvis," he rasped. "Scan."

The AI didn't have to reply. Tony watched graphs and lines flit over the screen. He may or may not have held his breath for a moment. And he himself would go with the "not" version. But there was no denying his long exhale when Jarvis' voice announced all vital sings were present. Such a thing would have easily killed a human, or at least leave him with a handful of broken ribs and, more likely than not, pierced lungs.

Loki still seemed to be in pain. His breaths were shallow, gasps even, so broken ribs were not excluded. As for pierced lungs … The lack of blood on his lips was a good sign, right?

He did open his faceplate now.

"Hey. Loki."

Green eyes fluttered open, unfocused. Loki blinked, sucked in a violent breath, then winced in pain.

"No deep breaths, okay? Man, that was a nasty kick. What are these things anyway? Oh, right, no speaking." He was babbling. That was _never_ a good sign. Bickering, yes. Stalling, too, joking, being sarcastic, avoiding a subject, yes. Babbling? No.

"So, um, I'd say broken ribs? Should I take you to a hospital or what?"

"Just … leave," Loki grit out.

Tony frowned. "You wanna die?"

Loki huffed in annoyance. "Grab your little friend and get lost."

"Ookaay …"

He did not understand Loki. First and foremost, why had the god just risked his life (health, at least) to save Clint? Because yeah, a former enemy was not exactly the same thing as homeless kitties.

Tony had named the cats eventually. After the initial shock (because Tony Stark didn't go around saving kittens, and every time somebody told him that with their gaze, he felt a little bit of guilt stir somewhere deep, deep inside), everybody wanted to know what he'd call them. He'd ignored the vet after they'd been examined, he'd ignored Pepper, who'd helped him feed the two cubs (turned out they were female) through baby-bottles. He'd ignored Steve, who would ask at least once a day, but when the press had found out, too, he couldn't have put it off any longer. They'd all been beside themselves, of course, because Tony Stark now had little kitties and wasn't he such a good person, not only saving people but also animals?

And Tony had looked away. He really thought it wrong that the names should be his choice, even when he hadn't been expecting Loki to come back for real. After all, everything was better without him in the picture. It hadn't been so damn important, anyway. Yet he'd still done the extra research to find fitting names. He'd finally decided for Chloris and Lumi, and ended up calling them Chlo and Lum and wondering why the hell he'd gone through all the trouble to search for names if he wasn't going to use them anyway.

But that was just the kind of crazy stuff he'd do. So what was crazier now, leaving an injured Loki behind, or trying to take care of him?

He'd opt for both. What, enough money could probably buy him the right of two voices.

"No, look. I … You left the cats with me."

Loki glared. "Stark, get lost."

"That's no way to talk to people who want to—"

Pain erupted in his jaw even as he tasted blood. His hands flew up automatically, but the metal, albeit cold, offered little comfort. His face throbbed, and Tony wasn't sure everything had remained in its prober place; Loki could throw one hell of a punch.

Damn, even spitting out curses hurt.

"What the hell was that for?" he pressed out through his teeth, not sure it was intelligible. Not that Loki cared right now. His eyes were closed, lines of pain soothed by unconsciousness, and Tony sighed.

Was it even possible to find sense in the things Loki did?

The want to know burned deep within the genius. If there were reasons behind the god's actions, what were they?

Taking him to a hospital was out of the question, what with his Aesir anatomy and whatnot. Bringing him to Stark tower—why would he do that? Loki was right. That thing on Christmas night, that was the exception, some weird, Christmas-spirit influenced acting on strange impulses. And this here, this was reality, harsh, but with steady lines between good and bad and redemption, and who helped whom.

Actually, everything made perfect sense. And when Tony glanced at the Trickster once more before turning away, it was to make sure this was not just another trick, that Loki would not stab him in the back the moment his attention was averted.

He picked up Clint and zoomed into the air, ordering Jarvis to keep on the lookout for potential danger and Natasha.

"Sir. Agent Hill is on the line."

Tony sighed.

"Right. Put her through."

Not a second later, he heard a female voice.

"Stark?"

"Yep, that's me." His voice was supposed to convey a cocky grin he couldn't really form.

"What's the situation?"

"I've got Barton. He's unconscious but alive. We'll be back in a moment."

And they would be even faster if Tony could fly full speed. But carrying a person who needed to breathe without the protection of the suit was rather inconvenient for speeding.

"Good. The situation is under control."

"You have …" He glanced at Jarvis' readings. "Two creatures left. Try shooting them right under the jaw. Or wait for me to deal with them."

"We can handle it, Stark."

And they could. Tony arrived just in time to see one of the beasts fall. Holding Clint with one arm, he blasted the last one away, then carefully placed the agent onto the ground. He didn't need to hear her footsteps to know Natasha was right there, let alone see her, but he turned anyway.

Her hair was dishevelled, hanging around her face. The fabric on her left shoulder was torn, but the wound didn't seem too bad. A bit of blood, that was it.

"He's fine?"

"Jarvis says yes."

She nodded. "We all made it," she told him, although Tony hadn't asked and didn't know if he would have, either.

"Seems like it," he replied as she crouched beside him. She'd take care of her archer now, and Tony could leave, but Clint chose that exact moment to stir.

"Hey, Bird Boy! Slept well?"

"Tin Man," returned the agent. He rubbed his forehead and carefully sat up, looking around. "What happened?"

"Oh, the usual. You fainted like a little girl, I had to save the day …"

"If it wasn't for that helmet of yours, I'd smack you."

And Natasha added, "Now's not the time to be funny."

"Mm, I disagree. It's always the time to be funny."

Tony didn't feel like it, though. His mouth formed the words all right, but it acted on its own. His heart wasn't in it.

"But really." Clint slowly got to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. "What happened? I think I saw somebody stand between me and … whatever things we were fighting. Was it you?"

It would be so much easier to just nod. A simple affirmation, nothing complicated, no extra question. But Tony could practically see Loki standing there, stubbornly, bravely, and he remembered the cats, knowing he couldn't reap the reward for something he hadn't done once again, and when had Tony Stark ever chosen the easy way out?

"No."

_Stupid_, reminded him a part of the brain. The _reasonable_ part of his brain.

"No," he repeated nevertheless. "We got unexpected help. Brave and stupid, if you ask me, but then what do I know. I mean, it's not like I know the guy."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "A civilian stepped in?"

"Who would have thought, miracles do happen," Clint threw in, and Tony responded too quickly,

"No, they don't. Miracles, I mean. Just coincidences, you know."

"A brick hit your head?" Natasha gave him a Look.

"A big, repulsive creature?" Tony suggested. "Anyway, you have things covered here, right? I've got a blond highway waiting. With champagne. It's important."

"Whatever, Tin Man."

They may have been looking at him like he'd lost his marbles, but then again they often were. Natasha's lips twitched into a smirk.

"Ever the ladies man, Stark."

"Technically, there's almost been a guy once—"

"Just go."

"Right." His face plate closed. "Enjoy your after-the-fight sex."

Now both of their faces said _you're just weird,_ and he didn't object. A lifetime of being Tony Stark was enough to accept that fact. So he raised his hand in way of saying goodbye and took off, impatient to get out of the suit. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable outfit he possessed.

Stark tower was a beacon of light. Or more light, it wasn't like the rest of Manhattan was dark. His brain was coming up with some weird metaphors. First babbling, now that … Definitely not a good sign.

Pushing the thought aside, he landed and let his robots take care of the suit. The blonde—Marianne? Mary? Mandy?—was almost exactly as he'd left her, still sitting behind his bar, only now she was flipping through a magazine and looking decidedly bored. Her face lit up when she saw him, though. She pushed the magazine aside.

"Tony, you're back …"

Her teeth were perfectly straight and perfectly white, the result of some operation, no doubt.

"Mhm, hi." He spared her long, long legs a brief once-over before he stated to pour himself a glass of champagne.

"You were gone for so long."

Long his ass. Some other time he would have used her words to suggest they skip the talking and go straight to the point so they don't mess up the schedule. Now he took a long gulp and sat down.

"Somebody had to deal with those things."

"Was it very dangerous?" Her voice raised "seductive" to a whole new level of overdone as she leaned closer, her leg brushing Tony's.

"I've seen worse." Like being defenestrated by Loki. Who'd just happened to prevent the situation from becoming what even Tony would call dangerous (yep, he was aware how messed up his danger criteria was).

"Surely better, too." Her leg moved and she batted her eyelashes. "I could show you some better."

Tony put the glass down.

"Sorry, um …" Maya? Meryl? "I don't feel like it anymore."

"You don't feel like it anymore." She laughed humourlessly. "Well, that's a new thing."

"It was a tough evening, all right?"

Tony knew there was a reason he never wanted to deal with women who wanted something he wouldn't give.

She pouted. It didn't make her look cute, only like a stubborn child who was about to throw a tantrum.

"Fine," she snapped.

"It's got nothing to do with you, really."

Why the hell was he even trying to be considerate?

"Fine. So you're throwing me out?"

"Um, no. You'll have to use those freeway legs of yours and _walk_ out. I'm not a fan of throwing. Trust me, I speak from experience."

He could practically see steam coming out through her ears. She didn't say anything, though, just shot him a look that would send a lesser man to an early grave, and stormed out. Tony sagged, dropping his head in his hands. He didn't move for a very, very long time.

Darkness had claimed the penthouse by the time he finally looked up. For a moment, he saw his Christmas tree again, and Loki lying on the floor, but then he blinked and the image faded. Rubbing his eyes, he sipped the champagne. Thank gods for alcohol. Raising his glass again and again and again with that familiar gesture felt reassuring. Staring into the darkness, not so much.

But he couldn't help it.

His jaw still hurt if he touched it; there would be bruises tomorrow. Damn Loki.

But …

No.

He would not think about Loki. If he did, he'd want to figure the god out, which seemed impossible as of yet, and then he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about him, so he would not start in the first place.

He would not think at all.

So he sat in silence and drank until his head became too heavy to hold up and eyelids to keep open, until he didn't have to be aware of the situation anymore and he could forget everything.

He slept.

Morning would come too soon.

* * *

A/N: Review? Please? Pleeeetty please? ^^

And if anyone has suggestion for some music that would go nicely with the chapter, please tell me.


	3. Chapter 3: May 13

A/N: A big thanks to everyone who's given this story some attention, either in form of reviewing, adding to favourites or alerts, or just reading.

See the end for more notes.

* * *

**May 13****th**

_And here we are together_

_Standing closer than we are_

_But we're still standing here untouched_

_~Heart: Secret_

"Pep, come on, can't you have Happy drive you, he knows where the park is."

"Tony." She placed her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes. "_I_ know where Central Park is, too. It's not about that. Tony, put that down right now and listen to me!"

Reluctantly, he obeyed. Better that than to face Pepper's fury. She could be even worse than Fury. Hah. Paradox.

"But you're meeting Agent. What does this have to do with me?"

"At least you're listening if nothing else."

"Of course I am. It's called multitasking. Not that I'm woman or … something."

Pepper sighed, but she didn't seem too agitated. More like … concerned?

"I've hardly seen you lately. You closed yourself into this burrow of yours and refused to come out. Your eating and sleeping habits were bad enough as it was, but this is outright unhealthy. You have to take care of yourself even if I'm not constantly watching over you."

That was low. He was successfully keeping two cats alive (two young, playful cats whose favourite hobby was trying to curl in Tony's lap as comfortably as possible while at the same time attempting to push the other one off his legs).

"I am taking care of myself," he protested. "I sleep. And I have coffee here. Lots of coffee."

She gave him a Look. "Tony."

"Pepper."

"Don't you Pepper me."

"Miss Potts then." He broke the eye contact. "Look, this is important. I'm trying to combine arc reactor technology with nuclear weapons. Don't tell SHIELD."

"Are you trying to wipe out the planet?" Why was she so shocked? He wasn't about to announce his research out loud and sell the product on the Times Square. "And didn't you say you were done making weapons?"

"It's not about making weapons." He wiped his hands into his pants. "I want to know how this would work. If it would. I told you not to tell SHIELD, I'm not about to throw the tower in the air, or use the I-admit- could-possibly-become-slightly-dangerous weapons, so relax. Besides, redecorating sucks."

"I'll pretend this is all just your lifestyle affecting your brain. Also, you are so coming with me." She grabbed his arm surprisingly strongly.

"Hey, hey Pep, let go, I can't just leave everything lying like that, I'm in the middle of—"

"Anthony Edward Stark!"

"Yes, ma'am?"

She didn't answer. Tony found himself quite literally dragged out of his workshop, away from his baby. Project. No matter how similar, projects were better. No changing the diapers. Gross. But that kind of manhandling was cruel. Pepper was cruel.

He looked around. "I'd have to change to go out, you'd be late. And is that rain outside? I'm not going out if it's raining."

"It's not." Pepper proceeded to lead him towards the bathroom. "It did before and it might again. But that's what umbrellas are for."

She all but pushed him in. "You've got a change of clothes in here. I want you out in ten minutes or I'll break the door down."

"Yes, ma'am," he complied. Fighting her was like throwing sand in the wind—it got blown back in your face. So he undressed and got into the shower to scrub off the dirt.

Water felt more than good on his skin. Maybe Pepper wasn't wrong after all. He did tend to forget everything while absorbed in his work. He'd practically spent the last two weeks in his workshops and labs. Fresh air wouldn't hurt him.

Ten minutes passed fast, yet for once he didn't keep Pepper waiting. If she was surprised, she didn't show it. All she did was push an umbrella into his hands and patter Chloris' head as they went out.

"Coulson won't like it that you left him waiting because of me."

"I didn't, Tony. I've known you long enough to have some extra time. We'll be perfectly punctual."

Damn, she really could handle anyone, even the Devil himself. Tony missed having her around. Or maybe … Maybe not exactly her. Well, of course her, too, but after having tasted the closeness they used to share, it was hard to live without it. Occasionally. When the sun refused to show itself for days.

"How is your project going?"

"It doesn't work," he admitted. "Something refuses to fit together." She wouldn't understand the detail, not that he could blame her. Pepper was not the one to discuss his work with; she was his link to reality, life outside his workshops, all things normal. A swift change of topic was in order.

"What are you doing with Agent tonight?"

"Going for a walk." That would end ... somewhere.

"Oh, why didn't you tell me sooner, I'd arrange sunny weather for you."

"Tony." Rolling her eyes, she smiled at him, a real appreciative smile full of kindness, and his chest constricted for a moment before he managed to remind himself that he _did_ deserve it, and that she was there because she chose to, because she wanted to be.

"Pep, buy yourself something nice."

The look in her eyes changed immediately. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, perfectly fine. I'm just … glad I don't have to be alone."

"Tony." She placed her hand on his upper arm. "We won't leave you alone. I won't. And you know you can talk to me if something's wrong."

He nodded, covering her hand with his one. "I do. But I really am all right. It's a good thing you're not like most women I've slept with. I'd be dead if you were."

"It's a wonder you're not. You don't need others to kill you, you're perfectly capable of getting there yourself."

"Come on, give me some credit!"

"I might give you twelve per cent of the credit."

He stared for a moment before he burst out laughing. Of course she still remembered that.

"Can an argument be made for fifteen?" he asked, receiving a nudge in his ribs with an elbow. The rhythm of Pepper's steady steps got interrupted as Tony returned the favour, and from then they continued their way in the same relaxed atmosphere.

It turned out the casual outfit somehow managed to convince most people not to look at Tony twice. They were used to seeing him with designer clothes and cars and women, and the billionaire was completely satisfied to go (mostly) unnoticed for once.

He hadn't been to Central Park in ages (no, that time when the gods departed from it didn't count, there'd been way too much business involved). It hadn't changed, though; the grass, the trees, it was all the same even if there were not as many people than on nicer days.

"Come on," Pepper gently urged him. "I'm meeting Phil at the carousel."

"Agent. His name is still Agent."

"Don't sulk."

"I'm not sulking. Why would I be sulking?" Because he really wasn't. He just needed a way to get back at him. A little. But he'd only admit that to Lumi and Chlo. _They_ would never walk away with somebody else. As much as they liked Pepper, Tony was their absolute favourite.

If they were to meet Loki, would they remember him? Oh, right, cats, allegedly getting attached to places not people. But Loki was a god. Did that count? Or was he treated by some other rules? Did animals know he was different? Nature?

Okay, this train of thought had gone too far. Besides, Coulson was already there, waiting despite Pepper's carefully planning of the extra time. The couple shared a quick embrace, the two men exchanged greetings.

"Don't close yourself into the burrow right away again," Pepper said.

"Of course. I'll stay out here, breathing the fresh air … Has somebody been using the it's-going-to-rain spray too much?"

Pepper only shook her head. Having the ability to handle all the troublesome situation this world had to offer sadly didn't come with automatic appreciation of sarcasm, and witty retorts. At least it saved him from engaging in a bickering war.

Pepper and Coulson said goodbye, and he was left to do whatever he wanted. There were ample possibilities. But somehow, he remained standing where he was, rooted to the spot. The thought hit him without warning and took him by surprise: his life was _good_. Not perfect, but he had so many things he'd been forced to live without for too long. He was doing the right thing, saving people, he had friends, he had Pepper, who'd shown him he was not as hopeless a case as it seemed, and he could look at her happiness with somebody else without pain or any real jealousy.

His life wasn't perfect, but then what was?

Maybe that was why it began to rain. Some people opened their umbrellas, others ran to find shelter. A dog barked somewhere.

Tony finally moved. The soles of his shoes hit the wet pathway with quiet taps. A couple pressed together under one umbrella passed him and disappeared from his view. An elderly man walked in the distance. The park was becoming emptier; people walked with the purpose of getting somewhere now.

He heard the dog's bark again, and then a sharp whistle, and decided to follow the sounds. It had sounded like a big dog rather than a small one, and it couldn't hurt to see of he'd guessed right. After all, Tony Stark hated not knowing.

Reaching the top of a small slope, the first thing he saw was a mutt that had to be too small to have made the sound. Then he noticed the other one, a black Labrador, and his eyes followed its movements to somebody's legs, long legs clad in wet jeans, an elegant back with a sweatshirt plastered to it, and a dark ponytail, and Tony couldn't move.

A moment later, he mentally slapped himself. Hard. Having dark hair and a lean figure did not automatically make a man Loki. Although … The way the guy held himself …

Tony shook his head. It wouldn't make much sense for Loki to be here (not that anything concerning him did, so this was poor reasoning), except if he was, what, trying to live like a normal person? Only normal people hurried inside when it started to rain. And Loki would never be normal anyway. Not to mention he didn't seem like a dog person; cats fitted him _much_ better. This man, with the two dogs lurking around his legs, couldn't be Loki.

Tony released a breath. Legs willing to move again, he started down the path, looking at the ground just in front of his feet. His mind wandered to food. He was simply unable to eat on a regular basis when absorbed in research, but now a big, hot pizza appeared horribly alluring. With lots of cheese. More different kinds of cheese. Yeah, that would do. He'd walk back to the tower, have Jarvis order the largest pizza possible—

The man called out for the dogs, curtly, in a voice no one would want to contradict, and Tony _had_ to look up.

That was Loki's voice. That was _Loki_, having the two dogs on the leash now, the stupid dogs …

Either the god really liked them (was it possible to be cat and a dog person simultaneously?), or they weren't his at all. None of the options wanted to fit into the frame. Tony was willing to go with the second, though. Since Loki was now obviously staying on Earth, he needed to live somehow, and getting a proper job with neither documents nor valid education—yeah, not gonna happen. It left the billionaire wondering how a former prince with an ego the size of the Moon, at least, let himself be reduced to walking somebody's dogs, yet at the same time he couldn't help but admire him for being able to so obviously put _life_ before _pride_. How many people didn't have jobs just because they insisted they were overeducated?

Tony found himself urged closer. Not like being pulled by some invisible force, but lured gently by soft whispers on the edge of his consciousness. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Loki was simply standing there, letting the rain drench him through and through, with his back to Tony, although he must have heard him. Even when Tony stopped behind him, close enough to hold the umbrella over them both, Loki's feet remained firmly planted to the spot.

The world narrowed on that small, dry space. Of course the surroundings were still there, same as a moment ago, but Tony's black umbrella marked a separated territory, one the downpour couldn't penetrate, and with rain all around them, this last fact had to make their little piece of space somehow special.

Tony opened his mouth to speak, to ask about the present, about that evening in April and one yet a longer time ago, to thank Loki and yell at him, he wanted to tell him how Lumi liked to sit by a window, watching rain fall as if she knew it was just another form of snow, the thing she was named after, or how Chloris loved to steal pizza, that they were well and how everybody had give him—Tony—the credit for saving them, and maybe mention the guilt this inspired in him, not that Loki needed to know that, but Tony had never had a well-working brain-to-mouth filter, no, scratch that, he'd never had a brain-to-mouth filter at all, sometimes he was just lucky enough to hold his tongue behind his teeth coincidently in the right moments …

The words died on his lips.

Loki's body was tense in front of his, entirely unmoving, except for the slight movements breathing forced his body into. Tony wondered whether he would be able to hear his breaths if not for the rain. What he wouldn't give to see the god's face now … Yet he couldn't move. Couldn't find the words to speak. Couldn't do anything.

He was distantly aware Loki might be able to feel his breath brush the skin on the back of his neck, especially now that it was wet. Perhaps not; they weren't so very close after all. Still. The intensity of the moment held him in its violent grip.

The fingers on Loki's left hand twitched, but it wasn't enough to break the trance. His ribcage stopped moving. A second, two, three.

Exhale.

His fingers twitched again.

And then he suddenly moved, strode away with determined steps, the dogs following obediently.

Tony kept staring behind him long after he'd disappeared. This time, there were no thoughts in his head. This time, he remained nailed to the spot even longer.

His umbrella was still half in front of him. Almost like it was waiting for a person to return under it even when Tony wasn't.

* * *

A/N: Sorry, I know this is the shortes one yet and there's not much interaction between Tony and Loki, but I had this scene stuck in my head, and I can totally imagine what it felt like for each of them (and if I were in Loki's situation, I'd probably be dying, so ... yeah). Next chapter should turn out longer, thoguh, and they will talk ...

And please, leave some kind of response. Reviews made me continue this when I was willing to leave it a oneshot (that's how amazing you are). Just saying ...


	4. Chapter 4: July 5

Junjou Romantica String Version and Sekai Ichi Hatsukoi: Zawatsuku Kokoro if you want.

Thank you for reviews, faves, alerts, or just reading so far.

More notes at the end.

* * *

**July 5****th**

_Meanwhile the world goes on.  
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain  
are moving across the landscapes,  
over the prairies and the deep trees,  
the mountains and the rivers.  
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,  
are heading home again._

_~ Mary Oliver: Wild Geese_

Apparently having a hangover meant he deserved to be under high and potentially dangerous exposure of really-Stark-again looks. As if a massive headache and sickness weren't punishment enough.

That was why this time he didn't wait for people to wake up enough to remember checking up on him might be a good idea. He knew his current condition well enough, no need to be reminded, thank you very much. And surely he deserved some credit for not getting drunk for a while before yesterday.

Getting up was a pain in, well, everywhere, but Jarvis didn't shut up until Tony yielded and obediently drank some vitamin-filled juice and swallowed a couple of painkillers. He did silence his AI when the latter demanded Tony shouldn't drink coffee. True, it did nothing for his dehydration, but morning coffee was a necessity and a routine no one and nothing messed with. Especially this early.

After a lukewarm shower, he made to disappear before Pepper got a chance to scold him. Besides, the newly installed infrared vision on his suit positively begged to be tested. Without losing any more time, he shot into the sky, relishing the taste of freedom flying never failed to leave in his chest. He'd flown from captivity the first time; he found he kept doing it again and again, leaving behind various kinds of restrictions. It was well they didn't have wings.

The world under him was an odd mix of colours. Figures in shades of red, yellow, orange and green moved down the streets, buildings suddenly looked strange, he could detect dogs and a few cats, watch people disappear indoors …

Tony flew over Manhattan, then followed the coastline. He whooshed over what seemed to be an abandoned warehouse with a hole in the roof when something odd caught his eye. Slowing down, he turned around to return to the spot.

"Jarvis, zoom in."

His vision may have been partly blocked by a container-like object, but the shape behind it was clearly human, although the colours were all wrong; the body appeared to be cold. Sitting like the person was, though, curled up with knees pulled up to their chest and hugging them tightly, they couldn't be dead.

Tony decided to enter through the doors. He was dealing with an unknown factor here, and he _could_ be cautious. Sometimes. A little. He landed in front of the entrance. One wing of the doors was broken, lying sadly on the concrete ground inside.

"Turn the thermal vision off," he whispered as he made the first step inside.

Some of the machines were still there, outdated, lost in deep slumber form which they would never awaken again. Disintegrating boxes littered the ground by the walls and debris crunched underfoot. A part of the roof had caved in. There were things still buried under concrete no one had cared to remove. Maybe that had forced the owners to shut the place down. More likely it had been merely a drop in the ocean.

He walked slowly, ready to respond to any sudden movement. Whoever was in here wasn't human. With even more caution, arms raised and ready to fire, he stepped around that particular container …

And stopped. Whoever, whatever this was, did have a human-shaped body and was curled up so tightly all Tony could see were shins covered by black leather boots, gray sleeves where arms were wrapped around them, the crown of the black-haired head, and hands covered by black gloves that only reached to the knuckle. The other half of the fingers was visible. And a beautiful dark shade of blue.

Tony pushed his faceplate open. "Whatever you are … Everything okay?"

Yes, very wise, asking a freakin' alien if all was well. Then again not many things were surprising where Tony Stark was involved. Even less things managed to surprise him.

"Leave me alone."

And then there were those things that shouldn't come across an unexpected but somehow still did. Even when they _really_ shouldn't. Not anymore. And totally wouldn't ever again. Yep, that was it. Tony Stark had been taken by surprise for the last time.

"Get fucking lost!" snarled the god, but the effect was lost due to his face being buried between his arms, and the lack of the biting edge in his voice.

"Let me think … No. Every time, you either disappear, or you tell me to get lost when you can't walk away yourself. Why the hell don't you make a run for it the moment you notice me then? Why stay? Help even? Nothing you do makes sense. Besides your being an ass, that is quite logical. But really, you were almost normal on Christmas, then you punched me. I had a bruise for two weeks." He pouted. "The park—what the hell was that? And now you yelled at me. If these are the manners in Asgard … I mean, all I did was ask if you were okay." And … he'd said "whatever", hadn't he? Yeah, he'd so just called Loki an "it". "I don't understand you at all."

"Stark, _please_."

Tony opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again, but still no sound came out.

Loki's voice had _cracked._

It was the easiest to just ignore it.

"Why are your fingers blue?"

The god hugged his knees even tighter (if that was even possible), shaking his head. It suddenly made Tony feel nobody was ever meant to see what he was watching now, much like on Christmas night, but something in him rebelled at the thought of walking away. A certain kind of vulnerability enveloped Loki.

Was this why he'd tried to make Tony leave? Because weakness was not something a man such as he, a god, would allow himself to show?

The idea that gods could even be weak, too, had yet to settle in Tony's mind. They had weaknesses, of course, Jane was one of Thor's and so was Loki, and maybe the pop-tarts-addiction the Thunderer had developed, but Thor was _not_ weak, or vulnerable, or—heaven forbid—fragile. Nor could Tony imagine the Warriors Three that way—he'd seen the footage from New Mexico—or Loki, for the matter. Well, he couldn't have imagined it before.

Wondering why he didn't find the situation weirder, he crouched down. Maybe the burning curiosity about what was behind this seeming vulnerability, what was the reason—there had to be a reason—dulled his oddness receptors.

The Iron Man suit wasn't exactly made for crouching. Luckily kneeling proved to be easier. Turing on his understanding side—not so much. Oh well, life was hard.

"I might not be completely sure how kids behave nowadays, but I'm positive you're acting like one right now."

A roll of those brilliant green eyes would have been a more appropriate response than tense breathing, but the Trickster would have to show his face for that. He'd never had a problem with facing Tony before. The billionaire frowned.

"Jeee, you're worse than kids. I know I get on your nerves, but I gotta inform you that your punch didn't leave any permanent damage on my face, meaning it's still gorgeous, meaning you'd probably be able to bear to look at it."

"Why won't you _go_?"

"I don't know. Why won't you look at me? Wait, you're not crying, are you?"

"No, Stark, I am not crying."

And it sounded like he really wasn't, which was a relief. But he was breathing a tiny bit too fast.

"Then what?"

"It's none of your business."

"Oh, for god's sake!" Tony grabbed the other's forearms, yanking them away, found his chin, dug his digits in, and tilted it.

He found Loki's eyes closed.

Found his lips slightly parted.

And his skin blue.

Two crescent-shaped lines ran across his forehead, one more above, them but this one turned upwards in the middle and disappeared beneath the inky black hair. There were lines under his eyes as well, two on each side, running down his cheeks like tears would, and then there were some more going from the corners of his eyes towards his temples, and on his chin, but these were less pronounced.

Neither of them moved. At least that was what Tony thought until he noticed Loki's fingers twitching, and he lessened the pressure on the god's chin.

"Are you happy now?" The struggle Loki put into trying to keep his voice impassive was palpable and not enough. His shoulders shook once.

"You're … blue."

"Yes," he snapped. "Now let go of me and go gawk at something else."

Tony only complied with the first part. Slowly.

"And why … are you blue?"

"Because I am." Loki's eyelids flew open, revealing seas of crimson with absolutely no white. Tony raised his eyebrows, and Loki half hissed half laughed, the sound sending chills down Tony's spine.

"That's what I am, Stark."

"I didn't know Aesir were blue."

Loki suddenly slammed the heels of his palms against Tony's shoulders, knocking the human off balance, got to his feet, and walked a few steps in a small circle, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"I'm not Aesir," he hissed.

"Ah." Tony pushed himself up, too. "Your brother mentioned you were adopted."

Woops.

How was it again, no mentioning Thor in front of Loki?

Well, hell.

The guy was in Tony's face before the latter could blink, red eyes burning with angry fire.

"I am _not_ his brother!" Then he turned just as fast, puting some feet between them, shoulders squared tightly, back tense.

"Right …" Loki was too much like a furious tiger lurking in a cage, only with fingers instead of claws. Fingers that were twitching even now. It could have been just a tic, but somehow Tony doubted it. "Because … you're blue."

"Yes!" Loki's breath caught. "Yes, you incompetent mortal, because he is the future king of Asgard, and I'm a frost giant!"

Tony really wished hearing that would explain everything. But it didn't. What the hell were frost giants anyway and why was Loki so upset over it? And the stupid movement of his fingers was making him feel on edge, too, did Loki have to keep moving them?

"Could you stop that?" Tony asked a bit more agitatedly than he'd meant to.

"Stop what, Stark?"

"That thing with your fingers. It's making me … twitchy."

"No," snapped Loki. Tony snorted. Arrogant ass.

"You mean you won't."

"Both."

"Both what?"

Loki swirled around, teeth bared in a feral grin. "For somebody called a genius, you are fairly stupid."

Tony's eyebrows arched. Of course Loki was a pain in the ass, insolent, stubborn, and whole lot of other things, but this was a hue that didn't belong on the Loki-colour palette.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Just leave me alone!"

The weak undercurrent of desperation hit Tony harder than a missile. Loki was pacing now, looking more like a caged animal by the second. The billionaire had never seen him like this before, so all over the place, so raw, and he couldn't divert his gaze from Loki's deep blue skin, the foreign yet familiar face, and those crimson eyes that weren't as disturbing by themselves as it bothered Tony not to be able to see their usual viridian colour. Right now, Loki was a creature of the very chaos he represented, the kind of chaos that erupted when everything else failed. The kind of chaos that could only be followed by a heavy blanket of silence. But they were not quite there yet; silence could only exist as the aftermath of battle.

And in battle, you always stood your ground.

"No."

A deep frown altered Loki's brow. He was still walking up and down an imaginary rectangle. "And why would that be? You said it yourself, you don't understand me."

"I could if you let me."

Even later, he had no idea where that came from. Tony Stark did not have a specially designed part of brain meant for blurting caring, touching shit. Tony Stark did not offer understanding to war criminals from space. But Tony Stark also didn't take in abandoned kitties and stand in the rain for hours.

He had some things to clarify.

Loki looked at him in a way so intense it sent shivers down his spine. Tony was even worse at deciphering that burning gaze now when it was all red. Hell, he didn't even understand what Loki meant to say as he shook his head and retreated a step. But he wanted to, curiosity drove him, accompanied with snippets of some other motivating forces, he needed to, and it was the desire to know that moved his legs forwards. He manually opened his gauntlets, letting them fall to the ground, and grabbed Loki's shoulders, stopping him mid-step. Cold sipped through Loki's clothing, a biting frost burning Tony's palms, but the latter held on. He'd catch Loki's gaze if the god let him.

"You might think I'm stupid." Tony's facial expression had earnest written all over. "But I'm not so dumb. What happened?"

Hair tumbled around Loki's face as he bowed his head, eyes downcast. His lips barely moved.

"I don't think you're stupid."

Tony's eyebrows rose just the slightest. What was that again about Tony not being surprised anymore? He was suddenly very aware of his hands on Loki's shoulders, although they'd begun going numb from cold. Slowly, he withdrew them. It made the god look up, and damn his gazes, his stupid, full-to-the-point-of-spilling gazes that Tony would need a dictionary to understand. With pictures, preferably, since words eloquent enough to describe them did not exist.

Loki made a step backwards, shortening the distance to the nearest container. And another one. Then stopped. Tony was at loss for words. Loki's mouth remained stubbornly shut.

Seconds ticked by.

There had to be something Tony could say without making the situation worse.

Sunrays had begun spilling in through the hole in the roof, lightning the place up. The sad state of the warehouse became even more apparent. The two men stood in shadows. Loki turned away.

"Stark, go. You have no reason to be here."

"Curiosity."

"No."

"Stupidity. Lack of self-preservation."

"Go away."

"If you don't like being blue, why don't you change back?"

"I can't!" Loki swirled around, fist slamming against the container with enough force to dent it. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "I can't. It's not even my glamour, all right, it's Odin's. It seems shedding it was the closest I could come to magic."

His anger had dissipated as fast as it had come, leaving a bone-deep exhaustion in its wake, a defeated pair of red eyes, still stubbornly narrowed like he was trying to show he'd never back down, never be forced to his knees. He pressed his fingers deeper into the metal.

"Yeah, well, this is supposed to be a punishment, I guess it's only fair you can't use it."

"I need it!" bawled Loki, turning, pressed his back against the container and slammed down on it with his fists before he let himself fall to the ground. "You don't understand, because you're a puny mortal, you can't understand, and you don't want to understand, so get lost this instant or I'll tear your guts out and feed them to you!"

Tony had heard too many death threats in his life to take them all seriously. He'd been expecting more of them from Loki, but it wouldn't have changed things anyway. This wasn't for real, this was Loki acting out of character, some dam breaking somewhere behind those crimson eyes, and Tony wasn't sure what to do. A part of him was compelled to leave, but the more Loki insisted on it, the more Tony found himself resisting; he'd never been good at doing what he was told.

Tentatively, he lowered himself to the ground so their faces were on approximately the same level.

"I like my guts where they are," he said quietly, "and I'd really appreciate it if you left them there. So, why do you need magic? Besides it being practical to make things explode, 'cause I'm pretty sure you'd manage to find some other way for that."

Loki raised his eyebrows a bit incredulously. A small puff of air escaped his lips.

"It's a part of me," he muttered.

"Like a characteristic?"

"That too. But it's primarily a part of my essence, so to say, like …" He frowned. "Imagine losing some basic ability. One of your senses, for example. The ability to move. It's not just a weapon taken away."

"Sucks, I guess," was the first thing that came to Tony's mind. He imagined suddenly going blind. Damn, he wouldn't be able to invent anymore. Probably he could still fly, but without seeing the sky spread out just for him, the Earth rushing by under him … That was a situation he wouldn't envy. And that … That was a scary amount of trust Loki had just shown. Knowledge was power, and to give it freely …

"You guess." Loki's lips quirked.

"Yeah."

Was that where the twitching of his fingers had come from? The need to use some force he could no longer control?

"So … Why don't you like being blue? I mean, sure it stands out, but it's a nice blue."

Loki pinned him with an icy glare. "Ever the funny guy, Stark. I'm a frost giant."

"Mm-hm. That's supposed to mean something to me, right? Sorry, fellow, you'll have to spell it out. Let's start with the basics, hm? What are frost giants?"

He heard Loki's breathing. Watched his chest rise and fall. Watched his gaze slip down and a mask cover his features.

The god's voice was devoid of all emotions.

"Monsters."

Oh.

Oh, hell.

Tony Stark was rendered speechless. Sure, he too had his moments where he though very lowly of himself (and even more lowly of who he'd been), and sometimes he'd considered himself a really bad person, but, well, still a _person_.

"You're not …" He swallowed. What did one say in this kind of situations? "You're not a monster."

"Please." Loki rolled his eyes, which was terribly disturbing now that they were red. "You're not obliged to disagree. If anything, you should know it to be the truth."

"Hm?"

"I threw you out of a window."

"Yeah, and I could add freefalling without a parachute to the list of the things I've done. I'd suffered attempted murder before. You didn't score even close to the-terrible-way-to-kill-someone-of-the-year."

"I almost got away with genocide."

"I—wait, what?"

Loki's lips stretched into a mirthless grin. "I tried to destroy my own kind."

"What? Why?" Tony breathed.

"We were to enter a war Thor had so recklessly provoked! That would have ended it once and for all!"

_I didn't want to be one of them_ remained unspoken, but it was spelled out all over Loki's face masks forgotten for a moment.

"I guess it didn't work out? You got angry then and decided to try your luck on Earth?"

"_Don't_ speak of this as if you have _any idea_!" Fire burst to life behind the god's eyes. Anger, and something more … broken. Something hidden amid lurking shadows in the background, dark enough to almost become invisible.

"Okay! Okay, sorry!" Tony threw his hands in the air. "Can I ask one thing without ending in the next thrash can? Why are frost giants so horrible?"

Loki looked at him like he was the biggest idiot ever to walk the nine realms. "Because they are. They are the monsters people tell their children about at night. They attacked Midgard long ago for no real reason, only craving slaughter, and blood, and power."

"And you?" Tony tried to catch Loki's gaze but failed. "Why did you attack us?"

The god shook his head silently. Tony waited; sometimes the guy spoke after a pause long enough to make people move to other subjects for sure. Not his time, though.

"Don't tell me it was for the same reasons."

Loki shook his head again.

"Why then?" Was this a chance he'd been waiting for, an opportunity to peek into that wonderfully complicated mind?

Shaking his head again. "Stark, don't—"

And then sunlight fell on Loki's face. He nearly recoiled, but seemed to have realised his body's reaction fast enough to stop it. He did, however, move aside just enough to escape back in shade.

"You don't like sun either? First thunder, now this?"

Why was everything that came out of his mouth either stupid or mean, or at least a jab?

"It … makes things worse."

"Not fond of high temperatures? Well, makes sense." And having a cooling system built in the suit sometimes made him forget the real conditions outside.

"Not fond," Loki agreed. His tongue darted over his lips.

Tony nodded. He eased himself onto the ground, sitting awkwardly. He really needed to make his suits more comfortable to spend time in.

"What?" he asked as Loki arched his eyebrows, which were not in contrast to his skin now, and Tony found that opposite of colours was something so very _Loki_ it was strange seeing him without it. "Might as well make myself comfortable. What are you doing here in the first place?"

Nobody managed the are-you-really-asking-that look better than the Trickster.

"I mean here here, not on Earth here."

"You're insufferable," Loki snapped. "What do you think would be the reaction were I to go out looking like this?"

"People could think it's cosplay." Or they might gawk, or scream and avoid him, or call the police. Not a good way to make somebody feel less like a monster.

"What?"

"Cosplay. It's popular in Japan. People dress like characters from anime or movies."

"Whatever, Stark. Stop staring at me."

"I'm not staring." He totally wasn't. Just, maybe, looking. A little. Observing. For scientific purposes. "Okay, fine, but your skin is fascinating."

Their gazes met, brown and red, for a second before it became too much. "Would you mind if I touched it?"

Loki's eyes widened. "What?" he breathed, barely audibly, shock carved in every single feature.

"You know, just to see if it's any different than human skin? Like maybe rougher?"

And why was Loki looking at him like somebody brought him every gift he'd ever wanted, then said he could not touch them? And when his lips parted, there was no sound, no other movement save for the occasional twitching of his fingers.

Tony decided to take the lack of complaint as consent, reaching towards the god's face. The latter came alive, though, snapping his mouth shut and trying to move away.

"Don't touch—"

Tony's fingers connected with his skin. Pain shot through them instantly, faster than Tony's reflexes could make him pull away. He hissed and cradled them carefully. The tips of his forefinger and middle finger were red and stinging.

"What the hell?"

"I told you not to touch me." Loki's voice sounded a bit … sad? But Tony hardly paid attention. There, in the middle of his cheek, right where Tony had touched him, was a speck of flesh-coloured skin, slowly, slowly spreading. Much too slowly, but it was, and Tony's brain connected the dots in an instant. Before Loki had a chance to move (or Tony to rethink his decision), he leaned forward again and pressed the back of his hand against the god's cheek.

A startled gasp was drowned out by Tony's groan. His skin burned. But Loki's began to change, and Tony counted that as a victory. Half a moment later, Loki pushed him away with enough force to knock him back on his ass, then grabbed his wrist.

"What were you _thinking_?"

Not much if the condition of his hand was anything to go by.

"If my powers were not sealed, you could have lost your hand!"

That was a new side of Loki, fretting over a mortal's hand. Tony couldn't decide whether it freaked him out or he should be flatter by it. The pain was distracting enough not let him dwell on it, though.

"Your skin is changing back," he said. Loki glanced at him. Looked at his hands. _Stared_ at his hands and swallowed when the fingers changed. Green chased red away, his face turned pale again, but shadows remained under his eyes, and sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Thank you," he whispered, blinking, and panting a little like the transformation had worn him out. "You have to … warm this up."

Right. His hand slipped out of Loki's loose hold, and he gently breathed warm air on the frostbitten skin. He did it again. And again. It stung, like there were needles piercing his skin.

"I should probably show this to a doctor. It'll be a fun thing to explain." He pushed to his feet.

"Sorry." Loki bowed his head.

"They'll fix it. But I guess I'll get going."

A nod. Loki's head fell back against the container.

"You, um, have somewhere to go?"

"Yes." A breath. "It's close enough."

"Loki? You all right?"

Another barely-there nod. Green eyes closed.

"Liar."

"And that would surprise you?"

Tony snorted. He crouched, pressing his palm against Loki's forehead. The latter tried to pull back, but there was only metal behind him. He turned his head to a side, causing Tony's hand to slip away. The human grunted, pressed it to Loki's forehead anew while his other hand took hold of his chin despite the pain in the back of the palm. Loki took a sharp breath. Not even a moment later he violently slapped Tony's hands away and jumped to his feet. He staggered a step, his hands clawed at the metal as if searching for support before he leaned on the container, pressing one hand over his eyes and forehead.

Tony shook his head. "You have some serious behaviouristic problems. Like mood swings. Severe mood swings."

"And so what?"

Not denying then?

Loki's breathing was ragged.

"Okay, listen. You, big guy, have fever. And, by the looks of it, light-headedness, probably a headache, and let me guess, you're feeling nauseous? Heat exhaustion. Bad thing. So you can either remain here until it escalates to a heat stroke and kills you, or you can come with me. Just decide within the next ten seconds, 'cause I'm really prone to changing my mind. Also, you might want to sit down."

Of course he wouldn't. Stubborn gods. But he lowered his hand and squinted at Tony. "Why would I come with you?"

"Seriously, I thought we were over this." Whatever "this" was. "You had no problem coming with me on Christmas, and you left unharmed."

"I don't need your help."

"Didn't you say you wanted to see the cats again?"

"I told you I don't need your help!" Loki shifted and stepped away from the container as if to illustrate his point.

_Like hell you don't._ "What's your problem?"

Loki snorted, then pressed a hand over his mouth like he was about to throw up. "You. And a thousand other things."

"Wow. I'm honoured. Now cut the crap." Tony reached out, but Loki stepped away. What was the thing with him and touching? He'd even sought out contact before, holding Tony's hand, so it couldn't be the touching itself. Fast movements, maybe? Some reflexes at work again, like with his fingers?

"You're one very messed-up god, has anyone ever told you this before?"

"I don't need to be told," Loki muttered, and wasn't that just great, because life made do much less sense when you were aware you were a mess. It was too easy to doubt everything, yourself above all, and Tony would know. He had his moments.

"Just come with me, okay?" He was careful to move more slowly this time. Loki tensed, but didn't flinch away. Tony's healthy hand found his wrist and gently pulled. They only made a couple of steps before Loki came to a halt. A chocked "Stark" came out of his mouth. Tony turned just in time to see him double over and throw up. The god's knees buckled. Without thinking, Tony grabbed him around the waist, lowering him to the ground where he proceeded to gag and gasp, dry heaves shaking his body.

The situation was absurd. Here he was, a so-called hero, holding the very man he'd helped bring down, so that his shaky limbs wouldn't give way and he'd end up right in his own vomit. The most absurd thing of all; this was reality now, not some it-doesn't-happen-in-a-real-life one-of-a-kind miraculous occurrence like before. This was fucking it, and fighting it would be no more productive than trying to wake up while one was already awake.

"You need water. Like yesterday." Tony helped Loki sit back on his haunches so he could retrieve his gauntlets. Putting them over frostbitten skin was about as pleasant as Fury on a good day, but Tony grit his teeth. Loki had struggled into a standing position, doing his best to look perfectly bored. And his best was damn convincing.

"It seems you'll be my bride for the flight."

The glare Tony received was murderous.

"Or not. Can you hold on to me on your own?"

Oh great, a staring contest. Tony sucked at it. Being still for longer periods of time had never worked for him, he was so going to lose this one … Eyes narrowed and jaw set, Loki curtly shook his head. How badly his pride had suffered from such a simple gesture was impossible to tell. The only thing Tony knew was Loki had to feel very lousy to admit that.

"Okay." Tony sighed. This was going to be awkward on so many levels … "Come here."

"If you ever mention this to anyone, I'll cut you into pieces and bury them all over Russia."

"Russia? Why Russia?"

"It's big."

"Can't you at least choose USA? Having me buried there would make Russia famous. Imagine the signs: Here lies the great Anthony Stark …"

Loki swayed a little.

"Never mind. Try to hold on." Tony pushed his faceplate closed, wrapped his arms around the other's waist, and pressed him against his chest. It was weird, having a body so close, yet being unable to feel anything through the metal.

"Jarvis. Let's go."

He had been right. The flight was awkward. Maintaining balance without using his hands was hard, resulting in swings this way and that way. After some futile attempt to hold on with some dignity, Loki had gone limp in his arms.

The landing was the worst. Tony did his best to do it carefully, but he leaned forwards too much. Unable to catch his balance, he stumbled, and would have fallen right on top of Loki if he hadn't pushed the god aside. They ended in two undignified heaps, Loki half sitting half kneeling, Tony on all fours. He was up fast, though, so that the robotic hands could pull his armour off him. By the time he was left in soft pants and a red sweatshirt (the sleeves of which he immediately rolled up), Loki was standing, albeit unsteadily.

"Come. Jarvis?"

"Yes, sir?"

"The footage is to go to my private server and my private server only. If anyone ever gets their hands on it, I'll take you to pieces and donate them to public school libraries. Also, nobody but me is to enter the penthouse until I tell you otherwise."

"Noted, sir."

"Good." Tony made his way to the bar, nodding towards the couch. "Sit down." Watching Loki obey with the corner of his eye, he poured a glass of water and carried it back to his visitor (if he could call him that).

"Drink this. Slowly. You can get more if you want to, but stay. Here. Understood? I'll get my hand fixed."

Loki nodded. Tony threw one more stern look in his direction before entering the elevator. "Tell me if he does something fishy," he ordered Jarvis. As always, the command was registered.

Tony hated the sick bay. Whenever he was in close vicinity of a doctor other than Bruce, he was immediately reminded on his time right after Afghanistan; it was not a memory he wanted to see resurfacing. But there were always exceptions to all rules, and right now was one of the rare moments when he found himself immensely glad he did not have to leave Stark tower to get medical assistance.

Of course the nurse, a thin blonde woman (everything about her was thin: her figure, her face, her hair, even her lips), looked at him funnily when he vaguely explained he'd gotten the frostbite while working in his lab, but he _was_ her employer, and she treated his injury with her mouth held shut. Her lips parted when he asked for ibuprofen, but a reprimanding gaze was enough to make them close.

He walked down the corridors as fast he could to still appear normal. The ride in the elevator was spent pacing up and down the small metal box, whishing he'd made it larger so he could move properly, and playing with the pills held in his healthy hand. As soon as the doors slid open with a soft hiss, he was out, headed for the middle of the lounge room.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips on its own accord. Everything was still standing, still in one piece, still whole. Jarvis would have alerted him if something had happened, but seeing with his own eyes brought a much stronger sense of security.

A half empty glass had been placed onto the club table. Loki was lying on the couch beside it, eyes closed, breathing heavily. His feet were resting on the armrest.

"Do put your filthy boots off my couch, okay? Such manners ..." He shook his head. Loki's eyelids fluttered open. Confusion filled the viridian orbs for a second or two, as if he were trying to remember where he was, and for the fraction of time, his face was unguarded, exposed. He must have been asleep; Tony felt a little remorseful for waking him, and a bit more so when Loki muttered an apology, let his legs fall over the edge of the couch, and sat up, not without effort.

"Sorry," Tony said. "Cooling down first, sleeping later. You have to drink"—he pushed the glass back in Loki's hands—"and Jarvis, turn the AC on some more." He contemplated Loki for a second. "It would help if you took all these clothes off. And I've got pills for you."

Loki, taking a small sip of water, observed him silently. Perhaps waiting for Tony to realise he couldn't do all of the listed things at the same time?

"First the pills, then the clothes, then you drink," Tony decided, taking the Advil out of the box. Loki's gaze turned suspicious.

"They're for the pain and fever and whatnot," Tony explained. "It'll help."

Reluctantly, Loki took one pill between his fingers.

"Swallow it," Tony supplied, gesturing towards the glass. Loki complied, and Tony watched the pale column of his throat work as he did. The skin seemed softer now when it was pale again, and it pained Tony to know he could never confirm or abandon his assumptions. The only thing touching Loki's other skin brought was pain. A weird clenching in his gut told him this—the fact that it was so— was very, very wrong.

The soft clatter of the empty glass being put on the table made him divert his gaze.

"I'll get you more water," he offered. "Get rid of the clothes."

This time, he grabbed a bottle of water, one of the big ones. Who knew how long Loki had been hiding in that wretched place, or when he had last drunk something. Tony had to give it to him; for his condition, he'd borne it well. Until he'd changed back to his usual appearance, Tony hadn't even considered him ill. He doubted very much being in the form of frost giant helped with the heat. In fact, Tony was willing to do that freefalling from Stark tower again if it did. Perhaps it had to do with the adrenaline? Maybe Loki had been preoccupied with other things, his body using the energy supply, and then the rush subsided? God knew Tony was overly familiar with how that worked …

When he turned, Loki was sitting on the couch with his knees pulled up to his chest. He'd taken the boots off, but that was all. His head rested on his right shoulder and upper arm.

Tony poured another glass. Loki's fingers trembled as he took it, but he drank without complaints. He looked tired, though, ancient and tired, weary as only someone who'd lived for centuries could be. About half of the water was gone when he pushed the glass back to Tony.

"Keep it," the billionaire objected. "You'll need a lot more than that."

Loki shook his head.

"Yeah, you will. Dehydration sucks. Trust me, I know. You have to drink like gallons of water, and when you've finally had enough you spent all the time going to the toilet. Don't worry, I have a nice bathroom. But you know that already."

Loki didn't respond. His eyes got a weird, glazed-over look. A spark of worry came alive somewhere in the back of Tony's brain. It wasn't too hard to ignore it. After all, it was probably just the fever. Speaking of which …

"You feel like your body is cooling down? It really would help, you know, if you got rid of this." He tugged Loki's sleeve, which made the god tense. "For your own health. No ulterior motive." Although his reputation would be impossible to compete with if he got a god to his bed. _A_ god. Not _the_ god.

Loki shook his head. It looked rather comical, what with the way he was trying to lean on his own shoulder. His eyes were narrowed, though not in anger this time; his condition was taking its toll.

"You can lie down," Tony suggested, because damn, the guy looked like he hadn't slept for days. Had he been looking this tired before, or had the whole blue-thing somehow covered it up?

"Just—if you feel the need to throw up, do it on the floor, not the couch."

Loki lowered himself on the sofa without responding, almost like he'd interpreted Tony's words as a command. He didn't pull his legs up, simply left them where they were. The glass remained in his hands as well.

Tony sighed. It was time he got something to drink, too. And even though he clearly deserved a glass of that lovely-looking bourbon on the bar, he decided to make Pepper proud. So he took a bottle of orange juice out of the fridge and rolled his sleeves a bit higher still. Thank gods for air conditioning. Without it he'd be cooked enough to be served with vegetables by now. And he really needed to change. But he had a tired, infuriating Norse deity on the couch. Leaving didn't seem like the best option.

Tony places his juice on the table. "You sure you wanna hold the glass like this? Doesn't look too comfortable …"

Nothing.

"Don't tell me you're sleeping. Ah, great, you _are_ sleeping. Awesome."

Tony pried the glass out of the other's grip. Loki's fingers flexed as if suffering from the loss. Green eyes opened a fraction.

"Stark?"

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

"Whatever you say." Tony returned him the glass, and reached out to pick his tablet from the other couch before sitting down on the latter. His fingers brought the surface to life. "I get that you feel lousy, but try not to fall asleep. I really have no wish to wake you up every three minutes."

The last thing he registered was the sound of glass tapping on glass. Then his research—he was still trying to effectively combine nuclear and arc reactor technology—hijacked his mind. It hurt to admit, but he was stuck at a certain point and had no idea how to proceed. The only reasonable choice seemed to be going from the beginning. And so he started flipping through all the previously gathered data in hopes of finding something he'd overlooked, or—even better—getting a sudden burst of inspiration.

"Sir."

"Not now, Jarvis."

"Sir, you've spent the last hour reading your findings. Your guest is asleep."

The last hour? What the hell happened to the regular speed of time?

"Jeesh …" He grabbed Loki's shoulder and shook it none too gently. "Come one, wake up. Do you have a death wish or something?"

Loki blinked.

"I told you to stay awake. Don't blame me when you die from dehydration."

"I am a god." Loki tried to glare daggers. He'd done better before.

"Yes, yes, why don't you forget you're above all us mortals, and that we hate each other for the next few hours, and then you can go back to being an ass?"

Loki looked at him like ... ah, hell, like only Loki could and did. Lips pressed together tightly, he reached out for water and silently drank. Then he leaned back, and Tony's attention returned to the tablet for about thirty seconds before he sighed deeply and put it on the club table. His eyes landed on Loki. There were so many things he wanted to ask, to know, but now was not the time. He'd bet all his money Loki was asleep again, although he couldn't understand how the god could sleep right now. If Tony were at his apartment or whatever place he had, there was no way he'd be sleeping. Loki was dangerous and unpredictable, an enemy capable of everything, Tony'd be too tense to even close his eyes.

The said dangerous, unpredictable, capable-of-everything enemy moaned in sleep, looking pitifully pathetic, and Tony grudgingly resigned himself to a long, long day.

It was harder and yet easier than he'd thought, shaking Loki awake (or half awake) every few minutes and helping him drink. Tony found himself sitting next to the god without really noticing. Loki's head ended on his shoulder at some point, hair tickling Tony's neck, hot breath washing over his skin.

"Loki."

"Nh … No more …"

"There's not much left."

"Let me sleep. Just, please, let me sleep," he murmured, barely audibly. Somewhere in Tony's head, alarms blared. He pressed the glass to Loki's lips. The latter turned away, and water spilled down his chin.

"Why are you doing this?" The tone of his voice was pure begging. "Why are you holding me here?"

"I'm not … I'm trying to help you. You're free to leave anytime."

"No." Loki pulled away. "You lie."

His eyes were distant, somehow empty.

"Um, Loki?" This was weird. This was more than weird. He did know he was in Stark tower and talking to Tony, right?

"You can sleep," Tony said eventually, gently guiding Loki's body down onto the pillows. He could ask questions later. There was no way he'd be getting answers now. And a sleeping Loki was less troublesome than a half-awake acting-out-of-character Loki.

It turned out he wasn't completely right. Loki's sleep was far from peaceful. A frown marred his features, his fingers still twitched from time to time, and he kept muttering things in a language Tony didn't understand. Once or twice, his body trashed around.

A soft _meow_ pulled him out of his thoughts. Something ghosted over his shin, and then a young gray cat landed right beside Loki's head.

"Chloris," Tony muttered. "C'mere." He held his hand out for her to nuzzle, but she didn't so much as turn her head toward him. Instead, she settled in the crook of Loki's arm. Ten seconds later, Lumi was there too, pressed against Loki's leg.

Did they remember him? Sensed he was ill? They could have shown up sooner, maybe it would have been easier to deal with Loki with them around. But of course they'd been too busy sleeping on Tony's bed. Preferably on the pillows. He dreaded the day they found their way into his workshop.

He stood up to grab something to change in, then stopped. Ran a hand through his hair. Shaking his head, he lifted Loki's legs onto the couch. Lumi stared at him, indignation only cats could muster in her greenish eyes. She jumped onto the couch after a moment, and settled against Loki's knee.

Tony shook his head, despite the small smirk tugging at his lips. Cats. His crazy, moody cats.

But he loved them.

It turned out he was nervous for no reason when he left for his bedroom. Loki was still there upon his return, still sleeping, Chloris and Lumi watching over him. He slept for the next two hours. His breathing evened out eventually, and he stopped talking, but the frown on his face remained. After that, Tony decided he could ignore the urge to google "frost giants" no longer. Doing it with Loki in the room somehow felt wrong. Hell, even in another room it felt wrong, like he was prying into something he had no right to know. It didn't help that he only found Old Norse legends. A voice in his head kept nagging him, telling him to stop, because this was Loki's business (noeven though it really wasn't, because there was no Loki in the legends), because he was actually trying to find out things about Loki, not the frost giants in general (which was so not true, and he didn't even know if there was even a grain of truth in the stories!).

He let the voices fight in the back of his head (perhaps it was time he paid a visit to a psychiatrist?) and kept on searching. Pepper called at some point, much later than he'd been expecting (truth to be told, he'd forgotten about her a little), and Steve a bit later, and Tony had to remind them he was perfectly capable of fending for himself.

Eventually, having run out of juice, he decided it might be a good time to stretch a little. His stomach agreed. Kicking the door closed behind him, he walked into the longue room, and—

"Jarvs?! Why is Loki gone?"

Where the god was supposed to be now sat the two cats, all pretty and innocent, and if Tony didn't know better, he'd accuse them of collaborating with Loki against him and Jarvis.

"You said he was free to go anytime, sir."

He cursed. "I didn't mean—ah, forget it! He left the building, I take it? How stupid is he, everyone could have seen him!"

"He used the back door, sir. Nobody saw him."

Tony ran a hand down his face. That was so stupid. What the hell had the guy been thinking? He was ill, damn, and there was nothing wrong with Tony's couches! What if somebody did notice? What if he collapsed in the streets? He couldn't even go to a hospital, there'd be so much trouble. This was bad, this was bad, this was _so_ bad …

"Sir, if you would stop pacing. I directed your guest out. Nobody could have seen him."

"I don't recall programming you so you could read my mind." He didn't stop walking. Moving helped. "Make sure the only footage of him is on my server, nowhere else. Make fake tapes, whatever, just do something with it. Where did he go?"

"I'm afraid the area outside Stark tower is not my domain, sir."

"Right." Tony took a deep breath. "Right. I know. Next time, do warn me. There are plenty of libraries in this country. Or … I might send you to Russia."

"You wouldn't, sir."

"Nor do I don't recall giving you the ability to be sarcastic. If you want to help, tell me why Loki behaves as inexplicably as he does."

"I cannot answer that."

"Useless." Tony slumped onto the couch. "And I suppose you can't bring me that bourbon, either. I'll have to replace you, Jarvis."

Lumi's curious look was the only answer.

"Jarvis? Oh, you're giving me the silent treatment now? Real smooth."

…

"Jarvis?"

…

"Jarvis?"

…

"I hate you."

* * *

A/N: I am officially incapable of writing anything longer than a chapter that involves Loki without making it dark ... Or dark-ish. Or going in that direction. (Yes, I admit it, I read too many fanfics, and I like to take my frustrations out on Loki.) I'm pretty sure where I'm going with this story, but I still wanted to ask you what you'd prefer: if I left the rating as it is or raised it to M. Please tell me, otherwise I'll just decide on some rash impulse ... Not the best way to make decisions ...

If you have any questions, feel free to ask.

And happy new year in advance, I wish you all of the best ^^


	5. Chapter 5: August 1

A/N: Sorry, long author's note ... but, please, read it.

1. As always, thank you for comments, alerts, faves, etc., I really, really appreciate them.

2. I've been asked if the story will have a plot. Yes. It's gonna focus on the relationship between Tony and Loki, but there's supposed to be a plot. I mean, there _is_ a plot. Read on, you'll see ;)

3. As of now, the story is rated M (not so much for this chapter, but there will be stuff later ...), thanks to one of my crazy friends who doesn't even read the fic (*tear*), but she'd still like to change it in a how-to-make-Loki-suffer tutorial. Not that I'm against that (sorry, Loki, but I guess we all love to see you suffer ...), there's just that little fact that it's a lot easier to bring somebody down than to make them get back up again ...

4. If there are some mistakes I keep making, please tell me. I don't have anyone who could do real proofreading for me. And by that I mean no native speaker or somebody else who knew English really well, so it's sometimes hard to know where I actually stand with my writing ...

5. Oh, and an anon asked why everybody focuses on the fact Loki's frost giant skin can leave frostbite and nobody on the ice-shaping powers. Let me just say his magic is suppressed, he's not in the best shape, and he hasn't really explored that side of his powers. He will, though. It will just take time, I guess. And I might not write about it a lot. Except if you people want to see it?

6. Contains triggers.

* * *

**August 1****st**

_Something in me is lost, forever lost,_

_Some vital thing has gone out of my heart,_

_And I must walk the way of life a ghost_

_Among the sons of earth, a thing apart_

_~Claude McKay: Outcast_

Tony tapped his foot. Waiting in line for coffee. Joy. This was exactly what he'd had in mind when he'd decided to stretch his legs and actually go to a coffee shop. Waiting. In line.

All good things are worth waiting for my ass.

The woman in front of him kept throwing her hair over her shoulder. Did she think it would impress him? Did she even know who stood behind her, dressed in washed-out jean shorts and an AC/DC T-shirt?

The woman in front of this one finally decided which muffin to take. Tony began to hope he might actually get his coffee before evening came. Impatience growing, he was about to wink at the barista in his usual why-yes-I-am-shamelessly-flirting-with-you manner but stuffed his hands in his pockets instead. He didn't feel like flirting anyway, and the woman before his finally, _finally_ got whatever she'd wanted, so he was out of jeopardy of being hit with those long tresses.

The warmth of coffee he soon found himself holding assuaged his irritation, and the sunrays caressing his face when he stepped outside chased it away. Just in time, perhaps, for his eyes landed on a familiar figure leaning on the wall across the street. Oh well. He could very well amuse himself with annoying the trickster god for a while.

When he approached the said god, however, it didn't seem he'd get that banter any time soon. This was not the same Loki Tony saw in his mind at least every second time somebody mentioned him, tall and lean, with his intense silent gaze, and strength somewhere deep beneath the surface. This Loki, looking so small as if silently willing the wall to open up and swallow him, did not look the god he was. He was once again thinner than the last time Tony'd seen him—a worn-out sweatshirt hung on his frame—his cheeks were sunken in, his pallor just as disturbing as the dark crescents under his eyes, which flitted around like he was constantly on the lookout for some hidden danger nobody else knew existed. Having crossed his arms over his chest could not keep his fingers completely still. Messy black strands hung around his face, and a small duffel bag lay at his feet.

He gave no indication of whether he'd noticed Tony—which surely he must have—and the later closed the distance.

"Hi."

Even as he said it, he realised it was the first time one of them had properly greeted the other. But Loki did not look at him; his eyes remained on a spot on the ground to their left.

"Stark."

"What are you doing here?"

"Nothing."

Right. He was much too close to Stark tower for "nothing". Unfortunately, forcing answers out of him was worse than pulling teeth. Especially with no anaesthesia. Would Loki become more talkative if he were drunk? Oh, Tony totally had to try that some day. In fact …

"Care for a drink? I do believe I still owe you one."

Something akin to incredulousness lurked in those viridian orbs as they turned towards his face.

"No." Pause. "Thank you."

"Sure?" Tony cocked his head. "You look like you could use one. Or two."

"I'm sure," Loki barked.

Tony couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was definitely different here. Sure, Loki'd just proven he could still snarl, and yes, they could both still be assholes, yet it was not the same. It wasn't just Loki looking worse than ever (with the exception of the time he'd lied on or rather _in_ Tony's floor), which was, for some reason, tremendously disturbing. No, something vital had changed since their last encounter, even if Tony found it impossible to tell what.

"If your majesty so desires … Why did you disappear last time?"

"I couldn't have taken advantage of your hospitality, could I now?" The sly tone of his voice didn't fit in with the way Loki's eyes shot to the right and then back again.

Tony pushed the thought away and rolled his eyes. "I happen to know you are fully prepared to take advantage of everything and everyone, no matter what side they're on."

A barely-there pout appeared on Loki's face. "That would be because I am on my own side only. I used to be on Thor's a while ago …"

His gaze drifted to the sky. Tony didn't even consider following it with his one. This was the first time the god had willingly let the conversation stray to his (not)brother.

"The problem was Thor was always on the right side; his side, Asgard's side, Odin's side …"

"And that was a problem because?"

Loki's lips twisted into a small, bitter smile. "_I _wasn't always on those sides. Or at least … it didn't appear I was."

"And Thor was never on your side," Tony concluded, suddenly feeling like he had no control over the situation whatsoever, although they were exploring Loki's weaknesses here, Loki's vulnerability. The latter's smile stretched into something twisted and broken.

"He knocked me down, so they could sew my mouth shut for my trying to trick the dwarves. I brought him Mjolnir, and Thor held me down."

The world must have shifted on its axis in that moment.

Thor didn't discuss Loki's reasons for attacking Earth, he'd only muttered something about imagines slights and Loki being overly sensitive and overly dramatic once, and why was Tony even asking, of course they'd been a happy family.

Well fuck.

How could someone with the brain the size of a nut-shell or bigger know Loki was sensitive—and he was, everything was always personal, and his emotions were like hurricanes held back by a layer of glass—help sew his mouth shut (that alone made Tony sick, and he was very glad he'd had an early breakfast) and then claim Loki was seeking revenge for "imagined slights"? And that someone being Thor, who loved Loki too much for his own good—it was so obvious he loved him despite everything, obvious in the way the look in his eyes changed when he talked in about his brother, in his stubborn refusal to abandon hope for Loki's redemption, in the scowl his face morphed into every time somebody spoke of his brother the wrong way—made it so much sadder.

Without thinking, Tony gripped Loki's shoulder. As per usual, muscles tightened beneath his hand.

"I'm sorry," he offered. "I didn't know that."

Loki's mouth twitched. "Well, somebody had to sacrifice himself for the good of Asgard."

Ah, all the useful sides of sarcasm.

"Do you have scars?" Tony blurted. Before he could even receive an answer he leaned forward, taking hold of Loki's chin, inspecting his mouth. There was nothing but unmarred pale skin and the motionless god to whom it belonged.

"Oh." Tony let go. "I just wanted to see—"

"Yes."

"Yes what?" The man looked upwards, hand lingering somewhere between them.

"Yes, I have scars."

"But there's nothing to see."

Loki scowled. "I have been denied access to my magic, true. I _can,_ however, bend Odin's glamour to some extent."

"U-huh."

Tony would probably hide his scars, too, if he could. A constant reminder of pain, betrayal, and fear was not something he longed to see every time he looked in the mirror. Changing the arc reactor in his chest to something good, a symbol of hope and strength, had helped to leave the whole thing behind more than he was willing to admit.

"You didn't answer my question, though."

"What does it matter?"

"You were ill."

Loki shrugged. He dug his fingers into his upper arms. Tony eyed him from head to toe. Boots, long sleeves, gloves even.

"Why are you dressed like that? Are you fond of heat strokes?"

Another shrug.

"Seriously. You could at least roll up the sleeves. And gloves? What the hell? You kinda mixed up the seasons … Will you say something or keep studying the sidewalk?"

Loki snorted. "I don't want to look at them. I _can't_ look at them."

"Them?" What them? "Oh. Right … Then … Why aren't you, I don't know, wherever that place you have is?"

Silence. Loki's fingers dug deeper still; the grip was going to leave bruises.

"Loki?"

"I don't have money," muttered the god.

Well shit.

"So the owner threw you out."

"He …" Loki's teeth grazed his lower lip. "Issued an ultimatum. I left."

"Same thing."

Tony ran a hand through his hair. Who would have thought he'd ever feel bad about the trickster ending on the streets, but he knew better than to show anything Loki might interpret as pity; his pride had suffered enough as it was. So, neutral territory. That was always a good idea. Why were there no cats around?

"Wanna grab something to eat?"

Loki only shook his head once.

"Sure? You don't have to worry about money, I have plenty of it."

"I am well aware of the fact, Stark." Loki's glared nearly made a hole through Tony's head. "It is most surprising you have not purchased this land already."

"What, America? Yeah, no thanks. You have to run what you own. Which—not always cool. Again, you really don't want anything to eat?"

"I am not hungry, Stark. I also don't want your pity."

There, Tony had _known_ this would happen. Though for some reason it was also relieving.

"I hate you when you say 'Stark' this way. How would you feel if I kept calling you 'Odinson'?"

"It would make me wonder why anyone should wish to call himself my father. I tend to kill them. As I will do to you, should you attempt to address me so."

"You killed your father?"

He was not surprised, he was not surprised, he was not surprised …

Loki barked out a laugh. "I never had a father."

"You know, my father sucked, too." After all, Tony had been nothing but his greatest _creation._ That was as fucked up as Obadiah's greed.

Tony took a deep breath. That was all in the past now. He had the present to live in.

"Let's get your place back."

"Stark, I told you—"

"I'll pay." He reached out, and Loki tried to shy away, but Tony caught his wrist nevertheless. "Hey!" He waved. "Hey, taxi!"

"Stark, don't …"

A cab came to a stop, and Tony immediately opened the door, nudging Loki to go in. He wanted to get this done before his brain realised it was a stupid idea and made him turn around and then proceed to interrogate him why the hell he'd wanted to do it in the first place.

If he only knew.

"Where to?" asked the driver. Tony looked at Loki, who remained silent.

"Head for Brooklyn."

The car moved and Loki arched his eyebrows.

"You said last time that your place was close enough. And relax, I can pay that guy enough to make him let you kick him in the ass willingly."

"Why can't you just mind your own business?"

Good question.

Very good question.

That was his business.

He'd made it his business.

For half a second, his mouth hung open. Then he pulled himself together, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Even a genius can't be good at everything. I like to stick my nose in other people's business."

"You shouldn't. We shouldn't go there."

"It'll be fine. You won't owe me, if that worries you. Now, the address?"

Reluctantly, Loki told him. He sank deeper in his seait and leaned on the window, fingers twitching.

Magic.

Or rather the lack thereof. Was that the reason behind it all? Bursts of Loki's uncharacteristic behaviour? His inability to stay completely still for longer than ten seconds?

"Let's go back."

Tony wished he could roll his eyes. He also wished he'd spent some time working on his brain-to-mouth filter and not so much on the arc-reactor-nuclear weapons (or whatever).

"I'm sure your pride can survive a little help from somebody once every few centuries or so."

Loki didn't answer. He pulled his knees up and let his forehead rest on them, and Tony put his elbow on the edge of the window. Something had to be wrong, something else than what he'd come up with, but he didn't ask. Loki was far too unpredictable. Backseats of a taxi cub were probably not the best place for conversations that could end in, well, any way he could (and probably some he couldn't) think of.

Heavy silence hung over them. It was all Tony could do to keep from questioning his decision. Once, he thought he saw Loki's shoulders tremble, but when he looked again they were still.

The cab stopped in front of a completely unimpressive apartment block. Tony paid the driver while Loki hesitantly climbed out of the car.

"So," the billionaire said. "This is where the guy lives?"

"No, Stark. I brought you here to admire the architectural wonders of this world."

Tony was about to point out Loki had to be practically dragged along, yet bit his tongue (exhausting, but desperate times required desperate measures. He was not about to argue now). When they were done here, he'd corner Loki and demand answers, because the god had changed so much, and Tony wanted to _know_ and to—

Damn.

He _wanted to help_.

He pushed the door open, Loki trailing behind.

"Where to?"

"How about back outside?"

"Don't be a jerk, I'm trying to help here. I'm sure your pride will be fine. It survived walking dogs for money, after all."

"Would you leave the dogs out of it?"

"I only mentioned them once, and it was totally in—"

The nearest door flew open. A man in his forties appeared, casually dressed, with short brown hair. Tony was perfectly prepared to be yelled at for being too laud (and perfectly prepared to ignore it), only to see the man's grey eyes go straight to Loki.

"Ah, Luke." The corner of his mouth quirked up. "I thought it was you. Have you changed your mind?"

"No." Loki's expression was devoid of all emotion. It didn't make him intimidating like it used to. Instead, it made seem smaller, which was wrong on so many levels. His fingers twitched.

"Then why are you here?"

Loki's gaze fell on the floor. Tony frowned.

"We're here to get his apartment back. I'll pay for it."

A nasty grin stretched across the guy's face. "If it isn't the famous Anthony Stark. Well, Luke, I can't say I don't understand you. There was hardly anything to decide."

"He's not …" Loki's voice faded. His lips parted once more, but nothing came out.

"No?" The man's eyebrows went up in a theatrical gesture. "You'll forgive me for not believing. And, Mr Stark, I will not take your money. Luke can provide payment himself." He reached out for Loki's arm, but the latter flinched away.

Tony felt anger warming up his blood.

"I can buy the whole building," he said, "and throw you out."

"Then by all means, do so. Show the world how having money gives you the right to bully others and interfere with their business. Luke and I have an agreement, do we not?"

This time he managed to close his fingers around Loki's upper arm, even though the god had tried to back away. Tony saw his whole body tense, and something snapped in him.

"Get your hands off!" he growled, wrapping one arm around Loki's waist, and pulled him away from the man. Loki's back hit Tony's chest. The latter tightened his hold even as his other hand came to rest on Loki's face, fingers spread over his eyes, tilting his head back a little. He heard the god's breathing hitch, but there was no resistance; he allowed himself to be held, allowed his body to lean on the one behind him. _Pliant_. Tony would have wondered about it if the reason for his indignation wasn't right there, the hypocritical jerk, doing the very thing he'd accused Tony of.

"Don't. Touch him!" He would, perhaps, also have wondered where the sudden protectiveness had come from if he'd managed to notice it, veiled by anger as it was. "Ever," he added. "And you can forget about the money. There's no way I'll pay you anything!"

The hand on Loki's face slid down over his neck and came to rest on his shoulder, covering the strap of the duffel bag. The other hand fell away.

"Come on," he said darkly, and surprisingly Loki didn't object to being lead out, nor did he shrug the hand off his shoulder. Tony lifted it when he fished his phone out of his pocked to call a taxi. Fingers hovering above the screen, Loki's voice made him pause.

"What's happened to the sky?"

"Hm?" Tony looked up in surprise. The sky was as blue as ever on sunny days, a couple of lazy clouds hanging above the skyscrapers of Manhattan. Still, Loki stared at it like something was completely wrong.

"What do you mean, what's happened?"

Loki's brow furrowed, the movement creating deep valleys between his eyebrows. "It's empty. Somebody took the moon."

What?

"It's daytime. Of course there's no moon."

"No. Look." A pale finger pointed up. "It's bleeding."

"Loki?" Tony couldn't hide the alarm in his voice. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It always bleeds," muttered the god. His eyes were unfocused, dull. It looked so wrong.

Tony ran a hand through his hair. When this was over, he'd call somebody and demand a book called something along the lines of What-do-to-when-the-god-you-can't-understand-on-a-good-day-starts-to-act-so-weird-it-actually-freaks-you-out be written.

Then Loki blinked, tilting his head just the slightest. Sun reflected in his eyes, revealing a startling brilliance of those million hues of green for a moment before Loki narrowed them.

"Stop staring at me," he snapped. "What are you doing anyway?"

"What am _I _doing?Rea—ah, forget it. Calling a taxi."

And he did. But his attention stayed on Loki, who placed his bag on the ground, Loki, whose fingers weren't twitching but trembling now. He appeared … nervous? Restless, perhaps. Tony's resolve grew. They would talk. As soon as they had some privacy. For now there was silence filled with the sound of cars' engines. A minute or two later, a cab came to a stop in front of them.

"Well, that went considerably fast," Tony said, mostly to himself, although he wouldn't have spoken if Loki weren't there, and opened the back door. "You coming?"

Loki started. "Where?"

"Stark tower, where else. I have some boring work to do, so my mansion is out of question. You can stay the night, and we'll figure something out."

Loki didn't move. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you doing this?"

Huh. Another good question. He had no idea. Luckily, the driver grumbled,

"Are you coming or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're coming. We'll discuss this later." He nodded towards the car, and Loki, albeit unwilling if his expression was anything to go by, climbed in after Tony. The inventor leaned back in his seat.

"Stark tower. The backside," he said curtly. The wide-eyed look he saw the driver make in the mirror brought him a trace of amusement, which glancing at Loki effectively extinguished; he was curled up on himself again, hiding his face between his arms. Tony caught the driver's eyes in the mirror and gave him a glare so poisonous the man hardly turned his gaze to the mirror again during the awkward ride.

"Here you are," he announced finally. Tony pushed a few banknotes into his hand. Loki uncurled his body. A weary look reigned on his face as the two stepped back in the heat before entering the building.

"Keep your head low," Tony quietly ordered. "Jarvis, make this private."

"Yes, sir. You will be heading for the penthouse?"

"Yes. Clear the way."

"Already done, sir."

"Good." Tony waved Loki to follow him, and they entered the elevator. The uneasy feeling in Tony's gut refused to disappear. Seeing Loki lean against the wall, eyes closed, didn't help in any way.

A silent _woosh_ of the doors, and they were in the penthouse.

"Make yourself comfortable," Tony threw at the god as he headed for the bar. Heat made people thirsty, it was as simple as that. And demigods. Demigods, too.

"I suppose you'd want something to drink?"

There was no answer.

"Jee, just say yes, or I won't get you anything. It's not so hard. Rudolph?"

He turned around. Loki stood near the elevator. He was looking at Tony. No, through Tony. His eyes were wide, lips trembling, and when Tony made a step forward, he made a step back.

"Loki?" This wasn't good. "What's going on?"

The god retreated a bit more. Tony could hear his erratic breathing over the eerie silence in the room.

"His heartbeat and breathing are escalated, sir."

"Yeah. He doesn't know where he is, right?"

"It appears so, sir."

"Damn."

A panic attack, that was all Tony could come up with. And he didn't like the idea one bit.

"Loki?"

Slowly, he made a step towards him. The god shook his head, not much, but he continued shaking it.

_Think, Stark, think._

How had he got himself into a situation like this? Was Stark tower a Loki-related-complications magnet?

"Okay. Okay. You probably have no idea who I am, if you can actually see me, I mean—what am I even talking about? Just cut it out, would you? Please? It's kinda disturbing, really. I'm starting to think I liked the side of you that threw me out of the window better."

Way to go. If what he'd just said could be helpful at all, it would be thanks to the sound of his voice that served as an anchor to reality. Maybe it did the job, maybe whatever blackout Loki had decided to end on its own. Whatever the case, it passed, leaving a swaying Loki, who tried to steady himself by placing a hand against the wall, behind.

Tony strode forwards.

"You're a pain in the ass," he grumbled but tugged at Loki's sleeve to make him move, and when that didn't work he wrapped an arm around his back and started leading him towards the couches.

"It stopped bleeding," Loki murmured. "It stopped bleeding for a while."

"What did?" Tony asked, changing his mind and heading towards his bedroom instead. His couches were comfortable to sit on. Sleeping was still something he preferred to do in a bed, and Loki seemed to need rest. Besides, he might be more cooperative if he were comfortable. A man could hope.

"The sky. They wiped the blood away."

"Of course."

He sat Loki down on the bed.

Tony allowed their gazes to meet, finding green eyes wide opened, surprised, and _afraid_.

"Stark?"

"Hm?"

Loki looked around. "When did …" A sigh followed, then he buried his face in his hands. "Damn. _Damn_."

His shoulders shook.

"Are you, um, present now? I mean … You had a kind of a blackout."

"Yes …"

"Okay. Good. What was th—why are you still breathing that fast?"

At once, the inhales became deeper and slower. After a while, Loki looked up. "I'm fine."

But he wasn't. There was fear in his eyes, and he wasn't fine.

"No, you're not."

Loki silently held his gaze for a while. His shoulders sagged.

"No. I'm not."

Tony waited, but Loki didn't add anything. The inventor stood in front of him, head just barely tilted.

"Will you tell me about it?"

"Why should I?"

"Just for the record, I'm trying to help you here."

"Yes." Loki let his hands hang between his legs, elbows propped on his thighs. "Why are you doing that?"

Ah, and Tony had hoped to escape this particular question. It irritated him when he was forced to defend his stupid ideas. Having to defend himself when he was finally doing something nice? Made him twice as irritated, but the viridian gaze somehow banished the annoyance and left a very uncomfortable Tony Stark in its wake.

He swallowed.

"An answer for an answer."

Loki made a small gesture with his hand, indicating he should go on.

"Because it's right. As much as our law would have you punished if you hadn't gone to Asgard, as much as trying to destroy New York is unforgivable—and I will kick your ass for that sometime when you're not sitting on it—that's in the past. You're already serving your penalty, and it was never up to us to punish you. Besides, when you want to, you can be … bearable. I don't know how this works on Asgard, but here you help people who are in trouble. Well, the ones you know, and even that functions better in theory, but … Whatever, you see the point. You're in trouble, I can help. And you saved Clint's life."

"Oh. That."

Was it just Tony, or did Loki look uneasy?

"Yeah. That. What was that all about?"

"Don't rack your brain too much. It wasn't something I wanted to do very much. But I had wronged him in the past."

"Right …" Tony shifted. He considered sitting down, but that would put him beside Loki. It would also put them on the same level; would he get the answers any easier then? "Tell me about your blackout."

"An answer for an answer, Stark."

"Prissy ass. What part of I need to know what's wrong if a want to help you don't you understand?"

Loki pressed his lips together stubbornly.

"Fine!" Tony threw his arms in the air. The trickster was deliberately getting on his nerves, it seemed, and Tony needed some nerves for the rest of his life, too. God knew Fury and the Avengers cost him enough. "Ask me something then!"

"The cats. What did you name them?"

"The black one's Lumi. The other is Chloris."

The corner of Loki's mouth twitched upwards. "Really now? How peculiar."

"What can I say, I've always been special. Your turn to answer."

"Choose the words carefully."

Tony snorted. "You know fully well what I want to know."

Loki pushed to his feet. Hands clasped behind his back, he walked a few steps in the directing of the door, then turned around and made a step forward. His gaze was all over the place. He parted his lips, and just as Tony expected to hear some taunting words, he closed them again. A second passed. He repeated the same action. His fingers twitched. Tony arched his eyebrows, and Loki slowly pushed the words past his lips.

"I'm not … completely sane."

"Mhm. I knew that. So, the deal with the blackouts?"

Loki's eyes flew open. Emotions ran through them, too many, too fast, and Tony had only a fraction of a moment to take them all in; he couldn't. The general picture, though, that was as clear as that day in July when he'd stumbled across Loki, and for the first time in his life, Tony really, really wanted to punch himself.

Loki turned on his heels and fled the room. Tony didn't have time to think, but he was good at that; act first, think later. It was instinct and impulses he followed, and they screamed at him, too loudly to bear or resist, to get the hell up and follow Loki, so he was on his feet, too, before he knew it, rushing to the longue room, heart slamming against his breastbone.

"Wait!" he yelled, prepared to be ignored, as Loki reached out to open the elevator doors. They parted and he made a step in, but Tony caught his forearm and pulled him away as strongly as he could. They stumbled, Loki's shoulder bumping Tony's chin, the god's arm getting twisted behind his back as Tony lost his balance and tightened the grip to stay upright. Loki hissed in pain and tore his arm out of the hold. He was angry, he was upset and hurt, and he didn't even bother hiding it behind one of his masks.

"I'm sorry," Tony hurried. "My mouth gets the best of me a lot, which is probably on the list of the top ten lamest excuses in the world, but I totally take it back, I wasn't prepared for something like this, I mean, it's a thing people say as a joke, the whole you're-insane thing, you know, so I didn't … I'm sorry. You can slap me, or something, if it makes you feel better—just no defenestrating, okay—and you don't have to go. I can leave you alone if you want. Or I can listen. I'm not good at it, but I can … I _can_ listen. Stay here, okay?"

Loki, gently rubbing the spot where Tony had grabbed him, continued glaring. Anger was slowly fading from his eyes, but the hurt remained.

"Please? I'll get the cats? Tony offered, trying his best to keep his tone cheerful and _don't get angry don't say anything mean don't say anything stupid be nice be nice be nice …_ "Speaking of cats … Where the hell are they? Jarvis?"

"It seems they've found the way into your workshop, sir."

"My—what!? Jarvis!"

"They are sleeping, sir. Everything is still in one piece."

"For how long, I wonder," Tony grumbled, then realised he got carried away like he'd always got when he'd been writing essays in high school, and he just couldn't get enough points, because his teachers didn't understand genius and—

Oh.

Shifting his attention back to Loki, he saw gears turning behind his eyes. How he wished he could see inside his head and tip the scales.

Loki sighed.

"Fine."

A wave of relief rushed through the billionaire. Not that he would show it. At least … He tried not to show it.

"Okay." Now that Tony had achieved the first step, he didn't really know how to proceed. "So, do you want to stay here or go back into the bedroom or something? I mean, you'd probably want to be comfortable …" This was _so_ not his area of expertise. "You know what, just go to the bedroom. I'll bring something to drink."

Loki didn't reply, but he headed in the direction of the room. Tony closed the distance to the bar. He had not just sent someone to his bedroom without any intentions to fuck the hell out of them. Wow. Although … Ever since Pepper, there hadn't been so many nights when he hadn't fallen asleep alone. Even less lately. Something was wrong with the world.

He grabbed two bottles of water and one full of scotch (his gut insisted he would need it), and the left-over of an enormous pizza he'd ordered yesterday just because he could.

Loki lay on the bed, arms crossed behind his head, eyes closed, but green showed the moment Tony entered. Avoiding the boots on the floor, the man set everything on the nightstand and sat down on the bed near Loki's waist.

_Surreal._

And because this was to be an awkward conversation at best, he decided to at least forego the tense silence at the beginning.

"So you're really going insane?"

Loki's eyes abruptly turned towards him.

"Yes."

"Like really insane?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?!" the god snapped, but it lack conviction. He sounded tired above all. "I'm losing my mind, Stark. I have flashbacks. Blackouts. I see things that don't exist, I can't think anymore. It's getting worse."

"Oh." Because what did one say to that? It was odd, one of the things that only happen to others, to some people you'd never met, and now Loki, of all the people, was telling him he was losing himself, and Tony felt fear twist his guts. What if something like that ever happened to him, too? That, just like that, he would cease to be Tony Stark and become … an empty shell, and gods, what if he were aware of that happening? He could understand the fear he'd seen in Loki's eyes now, because it was surely reflected in his own. Helplessness only escalated the dread.

"Why?" he exhaled.

Loki's smile was so sour it put fluorosulfuric acid to shame. "Magic."

Tony swallowed loudly. "Is that … what your punishment was about?" Madness? The destruction of his mind? How was that fair by anybody's standards?

But Loki shook his head. "I doubt it. Odin wanted me to repent and redeem myself. If he wanted to wipe me out, there are ample of methods. Some even crueller, and much more … certain. Who says I won't cause destruction if I go mad? Unless, of course, the runes kill me for good."

"Kill you? What?"

Tony wished Loki stopped smirking in that broken-glass way of his.

"I don't think they will. But they might."

"A few letters could"— _be nice, Tony—"_can you explain that?"

The god took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He untangled his arms, placing them on his stomach instead. His voice was quiet, yet steady.

"I don't think Odin meant to thoroughly destroy me. Oh, he might have, but then I'd never be of any use to him again, and what a loss that would be for Asgard."

"Aren't you fond of sarcasm?"

"Pot, meet kettle. Isn't that what you mortals would say?"

"Picking up phrases. Wow. There might still be some hope for you. Oh … um, that's another thing we say."

"It's all right." Loki didn't seem to resent the comment. Which was a new thing. But he was a master liar. "I've seen magic taken before. I didn't end that way."

Before Tony had to decide if some kind of responses were expected of him or if Loki wished to be uninterrupted, the god went on.

"There are two ways of suppressing magic. One is the shackles you used on me after … Before Thor took me to Asgard. It could be some other metal thing as well, it does not matter much. They served as a barrier, leaving my magic as it was but preventing me to reach for it. The runes, however … They are meant to destroy it, burn it out.

"Magic is rarely taken on Asgard. It's a woman's practice, mostly used for healing, but …" Loki shook his head, apparently deciding what he'd meant to say was unimportant for now. "There was only one case where this kind of sentence was carried out that I can remember. Others, I read about. Still, it's a rare occasion. Not one record mentioned insanity. All the runes ever did to Aesir was to destroy their magic."

The pause was deliberate.

"But you're a frost giant."

"Yes," Loki agreed grimly. "Their magic is an ability. My magic is a part of my essence. To destroy it means to destroy me. If it's a too vital part, it will kill me."

The impassiveness with which Loki talked about it all, like it wasn't his life on the line, his sanity, was disconcerting. Tony's mind was sent back in time, to the dreadful period of his life when he'd thought he was dying, to his own detached attitude.

"You think it will?"

Loki shrugged, a smirk so fake it made Barbie look real plastered on his face. "Why should I care? I'd be too far gone." His expression grew more serious. "But it tires me out."

Tony hesitated.

"May I … see?"

"You may not be a cat, Stark, but curiosity will kill you."

"Is that a yes or a no?

Loki rolled his eyes and turned his face away. He held out his hand to Tony.

"A very unwilling yes," the billionaire muttered, but he wasn't about to complain. One of his hands slipped under Loki's one, holding it in the air. He thought he heard Loki suck in a breath; it could have been just his imagination, and so he pushed up the sleeve.

This time, the sharp inhale was definitely there, and it was he who made the sound.

It turned out contrasts weren't limited to Loki's face. His arm was equally pale, the runes pitch black. The two colours were separated by an area of angry red—an ugly infection. It looked worse than Tony's chest during the palladium poisoning.

"This … Looks painful."

Loki was still facing the other direction. "It's not. Not really. But it's becoming."

"Your skin was fine on Christmas, wasn't it?" Because Tony couldn't remember seeing anything but the clear lines of the runes.

"Yes. Star—"

Tony slowly traced a black line with his fingertip.

"And this really doesn't hurt?"

"No … It's a … It's … Stop it, Stark."

"So it does hurt?" Would Loki lie if he'd admitted so much already?

"No … Forget it," the god said quietly. He didn't pull away. Tony lowered his arm down onto the bed. He stopped tracing the runes, but his hand remained under Loki's for a few moments.

"Here." He offered the trickster the bottle of water. "Unless you'd prefer scotch?"

There was a moment of hesitation.

"Both."

A part of Tony's brain immediately engaged itself in imagining what Loki would be like when drunk. Talkative? Well, it could hardly get more personal than admitting he was going insane, could it? But there were always the juicy details people tended to spill about their lives. And maybe Loki's pale cheeks would get some colour; he would _so_ like to see that …

"Wipe that look off your face, Stark. I'm not getting drunk."

Goodbye fantasies. All he had to watch for now was Loki drinking water. A few droplets spilled down his chin. Tony's eyes followed them.

"Let a man hope. Pizza?"

"I am not hungry."

"Yeah, yeah, keep repeating that. You don't have to be hungry to eat pizza. It deserves to be eaten under any circumstances. I hope they have pizza in heaven, otherwise I'm not going there. I might not go anyway; who would want to wear white robes and play a lyre? How can anyone live without hard rock? So, pizza?"

"Let me rephrase myself. I don't have appetite."

All the playfulness suddenly left Tony's posture. Hell, he dropped his bullshit defence mechanism. His eyes tried to find Loki's but failed—the god was staring at the ceiling—so Tony reached for his hand instead.

"This really gets to you, doesn't it?"

Something in his voice must have conveyed that he honesty meant what he'd said, because Loki lifted his eyes, and how Tony was coming to hate these gazes, the inexplicability, the brilliance, the greenest green he'd ever seen, the overabundance of all the things he couldn't place or name or realise were even there.

"Today's one of the good days."

Oh.

Fuck.

"I'm sorry."

There was no "it's not your fault". The God of Lies refused to lie. It made Tony swallow a knot of guilt. Because, yes, even though Loki had brought this upon himself, it was partly Tony's fault as well. Still, if he could go back in time, he wouldn't have acted any differently; Loki had been a dangerous threat that had needed to be dealt with, and the Avengers had done what was right in order to protect their world. They could hardly have left Loki keep running around in his manic state.

"Sir?"

Of course, leave it to Jarvis to interrupt the silence.

"Yes?"

"Miss Potts is on the line. She is demanding I put her through."

"I shall be delighted to hear her lovely voice. Lemme talk to her."

"Anthony Edward Stark!"

Okay, perhaps not his best idea ever. Well, to err is human, yada, yada, yada.

"Show yourself in the conference room this instant! The board's been waiting for an hour now!"

"It's three o'clock already?"

"Four! Are you incapable of looking at a clock? Isn't Jarvis smart enough to tell you?"

"Hey, don't insult Jarvis, only I get to do that."

Tony pouted. It wasn't his fault he'd had his hands fool of a troublesome Norse god. Why had Loki been in the proximity of the tower in the first place?

"Where are you anyway?"

"Nearby. Can't you reschedule the meeting?"

"Like I did the last three times? I don't know how you've managed to run the company for so long." That was followed by one very heavy sigh. It made Tony relent.

"Give me five minutes."

"I'll be counting."

"Use your phone, it's easier."

"Sir, Miss Potts appears to have hung up."

"On me." He pouted in the most childish manner possible. Not that he was trying to entertain Loki. He did look at him, however.

"I have to go. You." He pointed his forefinger at Loki's face. "Jarvis, make sure he doesn't take the elevator down like last time. Or finds my workshop. Also, no breaking, no wrecking havoc, no doing anything stupid I would feel bad about because it wasn't me who came up with the idea. Just … Watch television or something. There's more food in the fridge. And don't poison my drinks. Actually, don't go near my drinks, they're a valuable collection."

"Don't worry, Stark, I'll be good."

"Why am I not convinced?"

Loki opened his mouth, already taking a breath to speak, then closed it half a second later. He sank back into the pillow. Tony spared him one last look before going out.

"Jarvis? Keep an eye on him. If he does anything suspicious, let me know right away. Just don't say … Send me a message on the phone, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. The same goes for my cats. If they decide to break half the workshop …" He shook his head. Did the cats inherit Loki's mischief or what?

Aware Pepper was going to disembowel him if he was late even more, he hurried down the corridor after impatiently enduring the elevator ride. He hoped his jaw would survive all the yawning he'd be doing in the next few hours.

* * *

In the end, yawning wasn't his biggest problem. The board meeting was, as always, boring to no end, and soon he didn't know how to support his head with his hands anymore, since he'd already tried all the possibilities. He was an inventor not this ... not one of these monkeys in suits. Not that he didn't like suits. Because he did. They looked good on him, like everything else. They would probably look good on Loki, too.

His phone vibrated.

_Sir, I would advise you to head to the penthouse at once. It appears your guest is having some kind of panic attack._

He managed not to frown and even nodded at what the guy next to him was explaining to the once across him. A flick of his fingers, two, three, and he was looking at live feed from his bedroom. Something cold clenched in his gut.

The screen was too small to see what precisely was happening, but big enough to distinguish Loki sitting on the floor in an ungraceful heap. That flash of light could only indicate metal, and there was something suspiciously akin to blood all around, so it probably was blood. Loki pressed his fingers into his right shoulder and—did he just tear at his skin?

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck—_

Tony was on his feet before he knew it. Pepper pinned him with a Look that told him exactly what she thought of his gesture, but he had no time for her disappointment.

"You'll have to excuse me," he managed (nobody would say he couldn't be polite), "there is something I need to do."

"Mr Stark!" Pepper protested. "We're in the middle of a meeting!"

Okay, lying, he could do that.

"I have a thing running in my workshop. It needs immediate attention. Otherwise it might turn out ugly, and you know how much I'd hate to replace the windows again."

"Tony Stark, listen to me!"

"No." His face was completely serious, eyes filled with silent determination. "I need to go. Now. You can finish here without me. Or you can ignore me for the next month, or make me do paperwork all day, or walk you to Chicago if you'll ever meet Agent there, but now. I need. To go."

"Tony …" Her mouth hung partly open. "Fine, go. Go."

"Thanks," he remembered to say quickly before exiting with a surprising amount of dignity, considering he had to fight to maintain his composure.

The second the elevator doors slid closed behind him, his mask fell. When he entered the penthouse, her ran. The bedroom door was opened with enough force it crashed into the wall and almost hit Tony as it bounced back. He barely noticed.

"Loki!"

Tony grabbed the latter's wrists, pulling the hands away from where they'd been tearing at the skin on his hip, but Loki twisted them free and dug the nails into the wound.

Panic settled over Tony's mind like thick fog. He couldn't think; the only thing he saw was the pool of blood, Loki's savaged arms—it appeared he'd torn the sleeves away—the shaking of his body and the madness in his eyes. Tony tried to grab the other's hands again. They were slippery with blood, and Loki was _strong_. The inventor couldn't hold him.

"Stop doing this, you're hurting yourself," he reasoned.

Absent green eyes peeked at him.

"I'll be free," he muttered.

Tony managed to keep a hold on Loki for whole five seconds, before the god violently snatched his hand back and reached for the back of his neck. Nails broke the skin.

"It won't help!"

It wouldn't, right? If getting rid of the runes would release his magic, Loki would have done it already, and he'd have been much more methodical about it. He wasn't himself right now. At least he responded to reality, that had to count for something.

"Don't do this!"

"I have to!" Despair dominated the otherwise smooth voice. "They'll find me, I … I …"

Cliché or not, Tony would swear time froze as their gazes simultaneously landed on the knife on the floor. He made to grab it, but Loki was faster. His fingers closed around the hilt of the blood-stained blade. For a heartbeat, manic triumph filled his eyes. Then it was gone, leaving fear and sadness and pain in its wake, ad Loki dug the knife into his shoulder, cutting away some more of the already torn fabric.

Tony did the only thing he could think of—tackled the god to the ground. Loki twisted and struggled, but adrenalin enabled Tony to pin down his hand, the one with the knife, while the other clawed at his shoulder.

"Loki!" he gasped. "Stop! Try to focus! Whatever you're seeing isn't real, so focus!"

"You don't understand!" Loki's hand found Tony's neck and squeezed. "They'll find me, they'll—"

Fuck. Tony could barely breathe. Instincts screamed at him to try and pry Loki's hand away, but doing so would mean releasing his other hand, and what then?

"Doesn't … Odin know … you … here?" he choked out.

Loki blinked. His struggles ceased. The pressure on Tony's neck lessened, and sweet air filled his lungs.

"Please." Pleading green eyes looked up at him. "Please, don't let him find me, please! He'll … He'll punish me …"

Tony frowned. "You're already being punished."

"No. Promise me, promise you won't let them get me alive!"

The grip tightened again, and, staring at Loki's wild eyes, Tony struggled to suck in a breath.

"Need … air …"

"Promise me!" the god screamed. His fingers dug into Tony's skin—he was going to have a lovely collection of bruises—before strength left them only a second later. Loki's eyes glistered.

"Please, Anthony," Loki all but whimpered.

Who cared if Tony didn't really know what was wanted from him.

I was the name that did it.

"I promise. Now let me—hey!"

Loki managed to free his other hand. Light reflected on the blade before a fist slammed against Tony's shoulder; the god's attempt to switch their positions. _Danger_, his brain supplied. Without thinking, he punched Loki in the jaw. His head was thrown back, and Tony winced as it hit the floor. Beneath him, Loki stilled.

"Fuck."

Tony allowed himself a few deep breaths; the struggle had left him panting. Then he slowly got off the other man, crouching beside him. Even more slowly, he pried the knife out of Loki's grip; it went easily. Momentarily perplexed, he arched his eyebrows—a simple hit should not be enough to knock out a god. Then his gaze travelled to Loki's face, and he found green eyes opened a fraction, looking back.

Tony moved backwards with caution, but Loki didn't move, so he took an empty bottle from the nightstand and slipped into the bathroom. He put the knife into the nearest cupboard (wouldn't it be amusing if one of his one-night-stands found it there?) and fished the first aid kit out of another one. Having filled the bottle with water, he grabbed two towels as well.

Loki hadn't moved. The way he stared at the ceiling made Tony want to follow his gaze even though he knew there was nothing worth studying to be seen. The pool of blood on the floor attracted a lot more attention. Still wary, Tony eyed what wounds he could see, and he had to hand it to Loki he'd done a pretty good job. A line of butchered skin ran down the whole length of his left arm, and probably the right, too, but Tony couldn't see it from there. From the amount of crimson leaking over his neck, the skin had to be missing there as well.

"If I help you, will you try to choke me again?"

Loki rolled his head from one side to the other.

"So you're … you again?"

"I never stopped being me."

_What_ was so fascinating about the ceiling?

"Whatever you say, Bambi."

Tony edged closer and eventually knelt down. He poured some water on the towel. "Do sit up. It'll make things easier."

At this point, he wasn't even surprised to see Loki wordlessly obey such … requests? Commands? Advices, Tony preferred to go with advices. Setting the bottle down, he began washing the blood away. It had to hurt, but Loki didn't object, though his body was somewhat tense.

"Get the shirt of," Tony said into the silence. "Will you bleed to death if I do this too slowly?"

"No." Blood-coated fingers wrapped around the tattered edge of the fabric, teeth bared in discomfort, and Tony though there was a hiss of pain when Loki pulled the article of clothing over his head. He moved, so that he was now behind the god.

"Show me the neck," he said even as his eyes travelled over the pale back and the design of black lines on it. One ran straight down his back, following the backbone. The inscriptions on his arms, now only bloody messes, split in two on his shoulders; one line ran up to his neck where it met the one coming from the other shoulder, the second pair turned downwards and crossed on his backbone, where they separated yet again and four lines ran over his back towards his sides and then to his front, and when Tony peered over Loki's shoulder he saw the first pair of lines end about four inches apart in the height of his navel and the other two following the lines of his hipbones. One of the latter was torn out.

Pushing strands of hair aside, he set to work, first cleaning then bandaging Loki's neck, then one arm, then the other.

"You don't feel like talking?"

He wrapped the bandage around Loki's elbow, continuing upwards to his upper arm.

"About?"

"Ah, yes, you don't remember. Well, now you know how I feel when I wake up with the worst hangover in the world and there's some person I've never seen before in my bed."

There was no answer.

"You decided to join the Let's-ignore-Stark-whenever-he-says-something-I-think-is-bullshit club? I thought the membership was exclusive."

"I'm sorry I choked you."

"Yeah, you—what?" Tony paused mid-motion.

"I am sorry I tried to choke you. And I'm sorry I hit you."

"Oh. And bleeding on my floor, don't forget—"

Couldn't he hold his tongue for once?!

"I mean, I'm sorry I punched you, I guess?" He wrapped the bandage around Loki's chest a couple of times so it wouldn't slip off his shoulder. If Loki apologized, he must have known what had happened.

Right?

Tony returned to his position in front of the god. He found a clean part of the towel (the second one), soaked it with water, and reached for the last wound. Muscles tensed at the contact.

"Did you eat anything?"

"N-no …"

"You should, Snape. You're too thin." And he was; Tony saw the outline of his ribs. The proportions of his body were still perfect, though.

Silence. Tony frowned. Suddenly he understood how Pepper felt whenever she was trying to convince him to get some food into his stomach. He wasn't sure his feeling the same about Loki should freak him out.

"Appetite or not, you can eat and you will."

When Loki didn't reply, Tony found himself wishing he would. Especially when his gaze landed on Loki's hands, balled into fists and trembling.

Tony halted his action. "You okay?"

"Go on," the god bit out.

Tony reached for the first aid kit, eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion, but he didn't add another comment. He placed a gauze on the wound, listening to Loki's breathing; Tony could hear the effort behind keeping it deep enough. Beginning to wrap bandages around the god's torso, he glanced up, finding green eyes screwed shut.

"You gonna have another … episode?"

His fingers brushed Loki's side.

"No, just …"

"Just?" Tony finished and backed off a little. Loki gradually opened his eyes.

"This is … It's … I never planned for this to happen."

Tony looked askance at him. "You had to know they'd punish you."

"Not that." Loki's fingers twitched. He balled his hands into fists, then unclenched them again. The twitching subsided only partly. "I didn't mean for _any_ of this to happen. I thought … I thought it would be over, but it was just …" He ran a hand over his face, leaving smeared stains of blood behind. "A beginning." He scooted backwards to lean on the bed. "I hate this," he uttered.

A part of Tony wanted to run away. The conversation was getting dangerously close to what he could only refer to as sentiment. That, and he could practically see Loki falling to pieces, could see how badly it was affecting him, and it was scary. And the only thing he could come up with was the second biggest lie in the history of lies right behind "I'm fine". Because, no, things were _not_ going to be all right.

"They always have to take everything," Loki muttered under his breath. Tony wasn't sure whether he was talking to him or himself but supposed it really wasn't all that important.

"It's— Tony started, but stopped himself. "No, it's not all right. It's bad and I'm sorry, but you did commit a crime."

Loki abruptly turned to face him. His eyes were wild.

"Odin could have killed me! He could have simply killed me, and get it over with, instead of … of this! There's no redemption in this!" He threw his arms out in a furious gesture. "What am I supposed to do with a life if I won't even know I—why couldn't he just kill me!?"

"Hey." Tony caught Loki's wrists, for the sake of his safety or Loki's, he didn't know. "Hey. Breathe."

How did Pepper manage to deal with his outbursts? She deserved a raise of salary. Hell, she deserved more than he could ever pay her.

Loki tried to pull his hands free, but it was a half-hearted attempt at most; he could have done it easily had he really wanted to.

"You're scary when you get angry, you know that?"

Let's just stick with angry to be on the safe site. Tony didn't want to think about other, more accurate adjectives. Loki didn't argue, either. He shrugged indifferently.

"Go wash your hands."

Tony watched the god rise slowly and walk to the door. The infected skin on his back made the billionaire want to avert his gaze, but the runes, and muscles moving under the expanse of pale skin held it. He was still looking in the same direction when Loki emerged from the bathroom, hands and face clean, head cocked slightly.

"Can I rest?" he asked quietly.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure." Tony got on his feet and gestured at the bed. "Feel free."

"Thank you."

"Mhm. You always sound so … I don't know, really. Have you ever said just thanks?"

"I find it ridiculous," Loki countered, moving past him and sitting down on the bed. He glanced up at Tony once more, as if to make sure he was allowed to rest, before lying down.

"Are you going to sleep? 'Cause that would leave me bored."

"Perhaps."

But Tony only needed to carefully look at him once to know he was, what with the way he nearly collapsed onto the pillows and his eyes didn't want to stay open.

"Don't mind me, I'll just clean the mess you made. So. Good night."

"Stark?"

Sleep was pulling heavily on Loki's eyelids.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Mm. You're welcome."

Loki didn't answer. He stared at the ceiling, and although Tony was sure he'd fall asleep on his feet if he were forced to stand, the god's eyes remained open. Eventually, Tony turned away. He had a bloody mess to clean, cats to find and to feed, and maybe he should bring them in here.

Sighing, he picked up one of the previously used towels. When was the last time he'd been cleaning behind himself? True, there were hearsays of all kinds about him, and his reputation was … one of a kind, but a pool of blood was probably still one of the rare things people wouldn't expect to be found in his home. Well, one of the homes. It was about time he checked up on his mansion here, in New York. Malibu didn't sound bad either. Although Loki would probably hate it thanks to the temperatures.

Not that Tony cared.

When he finished cleaning, Loki's eyes were closed. His chest rose and fell in the rhythm of slow inhales. Tony made a step towards the bed.

He made half a step back.

His eyes studied Loki's face.

Another step forward.

And he left the room.

* * *

A/N: Loki going insane is hard to write *pouts* On one hand, I want to keep him in character, but on the other hand, he _can't_ be in character because he's going ctrazy ... Pfffff ...

If anyone knows some good Fristiron fics (or Loki fics) that are not on every (second) rec list, like Off the Record, or Nine Lives, or Bent Around the Wind (which are awesome fics and it's a shame if you haven't read them already), I'd be happy to hear about them. Cuz there are many overseen fanfics that are really great, too. And I've read all the popular recs already.

Have a nice weekend ^^


	6. Chapter 6: August 2

A/N: Look at that, an update! It's short, sorry, but there wasn't anything else to be said at this point ... I guess next chapter's gonna be short, too (so it should be up pretty soon, but if it's not, well, I'm either trying to fix my life-people just don't understand fangirling is a full-tim job-or having a mental breakdown somewhere ... *sigh*)

Just asking out of curiosity, and it might even prove to be useful for the fic in some way:

Do people (general public) know about Tony's arc reactor? As in, do they know he has one in his chest, and if yes, what it does?

And second: in Avengers, when Loki talks to the Other, is he summoned there, or does he do astral projection on his own? And if he is summoned, he could still do it on his own, right? I guess?

I'd be thankful for answers (or opinions) if anyone knows.

And of course, thank you for reviews, etc., etc. ...

Warning: triggers.

* * *

**August 2****nd**

"_I'm going to summarize as best I can. I've died twice in the last few days."_

_~Kristen Painter: Out for Blood_

_He's standing. That's all._

_The ground that doesn't exist is of a blinding white colour, and he can't look at it, because it burns his eyes, but he does look, he has to. He's standing in blood. It doesn't pull him in, still he knows he could drown. _

_It's impossible to swim in blood. Not because it's too thick, not because his hands are tied behind his back. And not because blood is death._

_It isn't. _

_Blood is life. Without life, there is death._

_This blood has lost its pulse. It's spilled all over the nonexistent ground, devoid of warmth, of a core, of its home._

_There's someone else. He's standing, too. Motionlessly._

_It's their blood, he knows. He watches it flow when there should be no blood left and he searches for wounds that either don't exist or cannot be seen. It's hard to believe the former, and so he goes with the latter._

_He tries to move, because the bleeding needs to be stopped or the other person will die, but he can't. Blood won't let him. It twirls around his waist in a mocking caress, making his blood run cold. He can't speak._

_He breathes. That he can do. And he watches, helpless, as blood leaks out of the other's mouth._

_Their gazes meet. _

_He's still standing. Still watching. _

_His insides scream. _

Tony didn't gasp. He didn't start, his eyes didn't fly open, he didn't even move. One moment, he was asleep. The next, awake, and his body frozen with cold dread.

Slowly, carefully, brown eyes peaked into the darkness. He rolled onto his side with equal caution, propped himself on his elbow, and slowly exhaled.

Loki was lying on the other side of the bed. His eyes were closed, perhaps too tightly, but he was asleep and he was there, and Tony breathed another sigh of relief. At first, he considered waking him up, but even if his sleep wasn't completely peaceful, it didn't seem too bad; Loki needed rest. Tony let his outstretched hand drop. He slid off the bed and headed into the bathroom. He used the toilet, washed his hands, drank some water, and returned to the door where he leaned on the frame.

"Jarvis," he said quietly, "what's the time?"

"3.27 a.m., sir."

Considering he was Tony Stark, that was an almost decent amount of sleep he'd got there.

He'd spent the rest of the evening watching old television shows and playing with his tablet. Eventually, both cats had decided to bug him, and he had no choice but to play with them. It was hard to believe he'd had them for over six months now and they were still so young. But, of course, usually cats were a little (quite a little) older when given away.

They'd taken a nap on the couches. Tony hoped he'd get to see Fury's reaction if he sat down and got his clothes covered in cat fur someday. Probably not so soon. Coulson, Natasha, and Clint were about the only SHILED agents that were ever around. Wasn't there some charity whatever in three days' time? He'd get to deal with their asses again …

About eleven, he'd abandoned the couches in favour of checking on Loki (he really did not want another pool of blood on his floor, it had taken long enough to scrub the first one off). The god had been lying in the same pose Tony had seen him in before. The pizza had still been untouched, but then again Jarvis would have warned him if Loki had woken up.

Tony'd sat down on the other side of his Stark-size bed. He hadn't planned to fall asleep, but at some point, he clearly had.

He sighed, watching Loki's chest rise and fall. How would things have turned out if he'd dragged Loki to SHIELD when he'd found him on Christmas? They wouldn't have let him be, would they? Maybe they would … Fury's methods were rough, but so far he'd been successful in preventing worldwide catastrophes. He did what needed to be done. But he hadn't allowed that nuke to change Manhattan to 4th of July fireworks. Not that Tony liked him. Or knew him well enough to predict his decisions regarding Loki. Although … when they'd shipped him to Asgard, they'd foregone the right to have any influence on Loki's punishment. Still, Tony wondered what Fury would have done. He wondered what he himself would have done if things had gone some other way.

Certainly, Loki wouldn't be sleeping in his bed right now. And Tony probably wouldn't be having disturbing dreams. Drowning in water was bad enough, he had no wish to try drowning in blood as well.

Grabbing the pizza box on the way, Tony returned to bed. He ate a slice in silence, the only sound in the room Loki's breathing. Then he set the box aside and went back to sleep.

His last though was if somebody had said a year ago he'd be sharing a bed with Loki (okay, there was still enough space for two extra people between them, and Loki didn't even know) he'd make sure that person got accepted in a mental institution.

* * *

" … ir? Sir …? You … ake up …"

"Hmnf …" Tony drawled. He was perfectly comfortable on that soft, soft cloud, and now somebody was trying to make him leave it? No fair …

"Sir, wake up."

"ShutupJarvis," he muttered. "Aren't you supposed to start with the weather forecast? What time is it anyway?"

He rubbed his eyes.

"5.06, sir."

"Then why the hell did you"—his eyes landed on the wrinkled sheets on the other side of the bed—"where the hell is Loki?"

"Your guest is on the terrace."

"Oh, okay."

He'd thought Loki had somehow sneaked out again, even though Tony had explicitly told Jarvis not to let him use the elevator.

"He is standing on the edge, sir."

A surge of fear crashed against Tony's insides.

_Fuck._

* * *

Tony barged through the door, heart hammering, and then froze. It was the worst possible moment to remain nailed to the spot, but there was nothing he could do to prevent it; his body refused to move before his brain registered the scene.

Loki stood on the edge of the Iron Man landing point with nothing but air under his heels. Wind played with his hair, black strands caressing his neck. His arms were partly spread, and his eyes locked with Tony's. The latter wished he was closer; all the things that had to be running through those viridian orbs right now …

Slowly, Loki smiled.

Tony's blood went cold. Ice cold. Below the absolute zero.

It was a small smile, genuine, even peaceful, perhaps, but so, so sad something in Tony's heart broke. And then he remembered how to move and he did, he dashed forward with speed that would have made sprinters proud.

Loki leaned back as if expecting the air to support him.

Only, he didn't.

Tony reached out.

Loki closed his eyes. The smile hadn't left his face.

And Tony's fingers closed around empty air.

* * *

His legs must have given out at some point, Tony couldn't remember. It felt like somebody had struck him so hard he went numb from shock. His head was empty, mind robbed of the capability to come up with thoughts. He couldn't muster the energy to move. Jarvis was talking, and Tony heard him, but the words didn't register, as if his ears were no longer connected to his brain.

* * *

It was probably a matter of minutes, the time it took him to get up, yet it felt much longer. Furiously shaking his head, he headed straight for the bar and poured himself a shot of whiskey.

Okay, so Loki had fallen off Tony's tower. Well, like he'd said before, Odin could have killed him before, this wasn't completely different.

And it was really not all that important.

He took cat food out of the refrigerator. Chloris and Lumi had a little room across from Tony's bedroom. It had been meant as a study, but he did all the work in his workshop, or on the couch, or anywhere, really, so he'd bought them baskets, bowls for foot and water, a litter box, and way too many toys, and put the things in the small room. The cats had the habit of sleeping everywhere, though, almost like he had with working, and Tony had no problem letting them warm his bed, but he didn't want the litter box anywhere near it, thank you very much.

Lumi was actually in the room, sprawled across the floor right behind the door (of course she was, wouldn't it be fun if Tony tripped and broke his neck? Did she even know _he_ was her source of food?). He quickly patted her, put the food in the bowls, and returned to his bedroom to get his phone.

Pepper was so going to interrogate him and then punish him; he might as well try to make it up to her by calling her. Sure, he'd need to make something up, not a problem. She didn't understand technical stuff anyway, and he'd done it before (there were always parties that couldn't remain unattended).

Today could actually turn out to be productive. He'd fix the meeting-problem. Get rid of the piled-up paper work. He would track Banner and chat a little. He'd call Steve; of course they had their differences, but when they were not arguing, they were capable of getting alone. Capsicle could be nice to have around.

And Rhodey. True, they didn't see each other as much as they used to, what with the whole Avengers and the whole War machine problem. Still.

"Today's gonna be productive," Tony told Lumi, who blinked lazily at him. "And tomorrow I'll solve that damn nuclear shit. I totally will."

* * *

A/N: Go on. Click the review button. I know you want to ^^ You want to, you want to, you want to ... Oh, well, I might have to work on my hypnotizing skills ...


	7. Chapter 7: August 5

A/N: You people are awesome! Thank you so much for the reviews! Here, muffins for everyone. ;)

Hmm, somehow I thought this chapter would be shorter ... Well, I doubt you'd mind. And have a listen to: The Cranberries-Dying in the Sun and Samuel Barber-Adagio for Strings for parts II and III. Or just like that. Beautiful music.

You're still welcome to answer the questions from the previous chapter. Fic recs are welcome, too. I have a list made as well, if someone wants it, just tell me.

* * *

**August 5****th**

_You see the trouble with you  
Is you're in love with me  
What a strange thing to do  
What a brave place to be_

_So we dive_  
_On sunset strip_  
_A heart so deep_  
_I drown in it_  
_And as it breaks_  
_I swim through cracks_  
_And leave with words_  
_I can't take back_

_~Robbie Williams: The trouble With Me_

Tony threw the crowd one last shinning smile. The press went crazy, flashes blinded him, and he made his way out of the room. Pepper was at his side immediately. He had one of his smiles for her, too. Hers mirrored it. Well, not exactly. It wasn't a grin like his. And maybe it was a bit sceptical. But a smile.

"Congratulations, Tony, you've just broken your personal record in making it through a press conference without doing anything stupid."

"Huh." He tilted his head for a second. "How about that?"

"So next time you say it's in your nature to do the opposite, I'll have evidence against it."

"No fair." He loosened his tie. "After I did this completely voluntarily. Come on, let's get out of here, the AC sucks. Where's Happy? Happy? Ah, Happy!" Tony snapped his fingers. Happy joined the pair and together they left the building.

"Where to?"

Tony adjusted his sunglasses. "Let's go … Let's go somewhere. What do you wanna do, Pep? Movies? Shopping? Drinking? I heard a new bar opened down the road, one of the barista is supposed to—"

"We're going to the tower—"

"We're going out—"

"—There are—"

"—There's no work, don't be a killjoy—"

"—Will you stop—"

"—I'm talking here—"

"—Will you stop interrupting me!? We're meeting Steve at the tower, Phil should come about now, and Natasha and Clint are also supposed to meet us there as well, we can't go to a bar now!"

"Oh. I thought you'd bug me about paperwork. Which I've done. So no need to bug me."

"Tony." She looked askance at him. "You never do paperwork."

"Yeah, I don't do normal press conferences, either." He climbed into the car. Pepper did the same.

"No, you don't."

"And I don't adopt kittens."

Her brow furrowed. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing wrong. I was just remarking how—"

"Okay, that's enough. You owe me another box of painkillers for my headaches."

"I think I'll manage." He settled in the seat more comfortably, and tugged at his tie some more. "Is there any scotch at the front? Because I really need some scotch."

"No, you don't." Pepper crossed her legs. How she did that in a dress so tight was beyond him.

"Correction, I really _want_ some scotch."

She rolled her eyes. "I heard you talking to Dr Banner yesterday."

Ah, changing the topic. Smooth.

"Why is he Dr Banner? Agents's Phil, Natasha is Natasha, Clint is Clint, and Capsicle is Steve. Why's Bruce Dr Banner?"

"Why is Phil Agent?"

"That's his first name. Agent Coulson. Agent. Not Phil."

"Whatever makes you happy."

Tony ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't wait to be inside the tower; it had such lovely air conditioning … Sure, his car did as well, but come on, who wanted to spend time in a car? (Except on special occasions ...)

"How did you find _Bruce_?"

"Have some faith in me. He's back in Calcutta. Seems happy enough. There's been no incident since … New York. For heaven's sake, can't we go a little faster? This baby wasn't built for strolling!"

"This is Manhattan."

Tony just sighed. Leaning on his hand, he stared through the window. He felt Pepper's gaze on him but none of them said anything, so he ignored it. At last Stark tower came into view, and he finally moved. Happy took the car away, Pepper accompanied Tony to the top, and the latter decided he really needed to make a door that wouldn't hiss even the slightest. It did nothing for his poor nerves.

The first thing he did was head for the bar. Scotch burned its way down to his stomach, but it felt good. Real. Then he grabbed the remains of his morning coffee and poured them down his throat.

Pepper stared at him, dumbstruck. "Is that alcohol?"

"Coffee. Relax, will you."

She arched her eyebrows. "Where are the cats?"

Tony shrugged. "No idea. Would you mind feeding them, I'll be in the workshop; Clint asked me to have a look at his arrows." He walked across the penthouse. "Oh." He snapped his fingers and pointed at the coffee table. "There's the paperwork, I told you I'd done it. Have fun."

"Anthony Stark."

Pepper's voice spelled trouble. Well, at least she skipped Edward.

Tony turned to face her. She stood beside the coffee table now, hands on her hips, lips pursed, and he threw his arms in the air, defeated.

"What did I do now?"

"You're acting strange."

"I'm Tony Stark, I'm allowed—I'm not acting strange." Where did she get that from? He wasn't even trying to kill himself by joining a car race. Or lying about palladium. Or drinking himself to death.

"Yes, you are. You're all … cooperative."

He cocked his head. "Don't insult me, we both know I'm never cooperative."

"Tony." Her look claimed they just reached a new level of seriousness. "You're attending meetings. You gave a normal press conference, invited Steve over, and did your paper work without my begging you for moths."

"It's an experiment." His eyes trailed towards the kitchen. "Do we have blueberries?"

"_Don't_ talk about blueberries now. God, you'll send me to an early grave."

"It's all for science. I'm just trying to be an exemplary human being here."

Pepper shook her head. Her hands dropped to her sides.

"You're avoiding your cats."

"What?" Tony frowned.

"Yes, you are. You always had a lapful of them. You were crazy about them! But I haven't seen you pet them for the whole three days now, and you don't even know where they are!"

"You're delusional. Should I call a doctor? Banner, perhaps?"

"Stop that! Life is not one big joke, Tony, even if you want it to be!"

"I know it's not a joke!" Was there some line he'd been pushed over to snap so suddenly?

"Then why do you pretend it is? Why do you pretend there's never anything wrong?"

Tony took a breath. He still remembered Pepper's reaction to hearing he nearly died, and he couldn't make her that hysteric again. It wasn't fair. She didn't need to be dragged in any of his messes.

"Pepper," he said in what he hoped was a calming tone. "Everything is fine."

But she only gave him a tired look and sighed. "I'm not stupid. There's something—"

The elevator doors slid open, revealing a smartly dressed man. Pepper beamed.

"Phil! Hi!"

She all but ran to the agent, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him square on the mouth. Tony rolled his eyes; they were so saccharine.

"Yeah, go ahead, eat each other."

"Tony," Pepper tried to scold him, but her voice was soft, eyes still on her lover, alight and gleaming and intense, and so were Agent's, and Tony suddenly couldn't breathe.

At all.

He'd seen a so, so similar look how many times now, intensity threatening to burst, and faint shadows of something dark and sad Pepper's gaze did not have, but the essence was the same_, oh god oh god oh god,_ congratulations, Tony, there's a picture dictionary for you, but he couldn't muster an ounce of satisfaction having gained the knowledge, because … because …

His legs gave up on him, and he collapsed onto the couch. The couple turned towards him, worry laced in Pepper's features.

"Tony? Are you all right?"

He sucked in a breath. Finding his voice, he could do that. He _could_ do that, right?

"Do you …" He cleared his throat. "Do you know you two look at each other like the other one put the sun and the moon in the sky just for you?"

The couple shared a look. Pepper blinked.

"That's … a very sweet metaphor. I didn't think you were—"

"_Don't_ finish that." He couldn't hear his own words thrown at him, even when these did not hold any poison. Pepper's words were not like his, not underhanded, not poisonous, not mocking just for the sake of it, and even if she knew where to stab and how to twist the knife, she didn't do it (Usually. There were always dire circumstances). But he did it, because he was Tony Stark, the arrogant billionaire, the playboy, not so much a genius right now, and when had he ever truly been a philanthropist?

Slowly, he pushed to his feet. "If anyone asks," he said, fighting to swallow the knot in his throat, "I have other business to deal with. Enjoy your night."

"Stark." Coulson. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

Tony narrowed his eyes. "I believe I just told you."

Coulson's mimic mirrored his, and he looked about ready to give him a lesson when Pepper beat him.

"Leave him be. There are still four hours before the ball. He'll be back."

"About that." Tony pulled off his tie completely. "I'm not going."

"What do you mean you're not going?"

Was it so hard to comprehend? He thought he'd used simple words. Why the confusion on her face?

"But you … You were being … You told me you were trying to be exemplary?"

Tony didn't even care if he appeared anything but his usual nonchalant self as he shrugged. And who knew, maybe he still did.

"See, that's the thing with experiments, they tend to end."

"You are a part of the Avengers, Mr Stark," Coulson reminded him calmly. How could the bastard always be that collected? He had no right to keep smiling that it-doesn't-matter-what-you-do-SHIELD-will-kick-your-ass half-smile! He had no fucking right to never lose it!

"What, your little boy-band in spandex? You never actually accepted me as a real member! I've been fighting for you for over a year, and I'm not even officially in! And now you think you have the right to show me off at some pet exhibition when I, I—I … Shit, I'm _not_ a hero!" He threw his arms out at his sides, eyes shooting from Pepper to Coulson and back again. The fit of rage left as fast as it had appeared, leaving bone-deep exhaustion in its wake. "Never have been."

"Tony …" Pepper's voice was soft as she made a couple of steps forward. "What happened?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I need time, I need to think, okay. I just … need to think."

"Are you okay?" She was the very definition of concern. "You're not dying again, are you?"

"Who's dying?"

Heads turned. Steve stood at the entrance, looking from one to the other in confusion.

Tony wasn't sure whether something exploded in him, or broke.

"We all are, American Dream. We're all slowly dying here."

With that, he turned on his heels and made it for the door to his rooms. The way lasted an eternity. As a mortal, he should have been dead before he reached it.

"Tony?"

"No, Pep. I'm not dying again."

He slipped into the corridor. His reserves of energy barely enabled him to close the door behind him and drag himself into the bedroom. He all but fell onto the bed and buried his head into his hands.

The shock had worn off.

And he could feel the wound bleed.

* * *

Pepper was right; he had been acting differently. It had been easier, so much easier, because it had chased any other thoughts away. He'd been busy working. Usually when he needed a distraction, he'd drink himself into a coma or bunk in his workshop, and that was exactly why he hadn't done it this time; it would have been the same as admitting he _needed_ something to occupy himself with. Because … Because.

Loki had killed himself.

Just like that. He was _gone_.

And did he—had he really loved Tony?

The billionaire shifted. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. He didn't know much about love, so he might have been wrong. It was quite probable. But Loki's eyes … Loki's brilliant eyes …

Tony stood up. He needed to know. He would find out. It would give him something to do, which was much better than sitting around and feeling all … Weird.

Returning to the lounge room, he immediately had Pepper's, Agent's, and Steve's gaze plastered on him.

"Have you changed your mind?" Pepper asked hopefully, but he shook his head and snatched his tablet from the coffee table, then headed back the way he came. Before he reached the door, he stopped, raised his hand, and silently pointed to the door, then to the bar, while thoughts swirled in his head. A moment later, he crossed the lounge room again. If he was going to do this, he'd need a drink. Or two. Three. A bottle.

"What's going on here?" asked Steve. Tony didn't even spare him a glance. His mind was spinning. Damn, he needed alcohol already. The scotch he'd left outside was still there. Without hesitation, he took a long gulp. He put the tablet down, closed the bottle, passed it to his other hand, and finally spared Cap a look.

"I've got a theory."

"And?"

"What do you do with theories?"

He'd seen Loki commit suicide. He'd seen Loki commit suicide.

He swallowed.

"I don't know."

"You prove them." He needed to get away from here. The air was too thick. He didn't want his mind to play the last seconds of Loki's life for him again. He didn't need this. He couldn't bear this. "Or you discard them."

"Stark, whatever point you're trying to make—"

"You. Hush." He really didn't have energy for this. He raised his free hand in lieu of saying goodbye, wondering whether screaming would make him feel any better. Or slamming the doors. Ah, his workshop had automatic doors. Right. Bad luck.

"Jarvis"—Tony made his way between workbenches and technology—"lock the door. No one, and I mean no one, is allowed to come in. And don't even think about letting someone overwrite your protocol, or I'll upload you into a pile of wood and set it on fire."

His screens came to life. "I don't think that is possible, sir."

"I'll find a way. Just do what you're told."

"Yes, sir."

"And get me that private footage of Loki's visits. I'm sure you saved it in a separate folder."

"I did, sir."

Tony shook his head. "Sometimes you're too neat, Jarvis. Don't tell me you named it, too."

"No, sir. Would you like me to?"

"Leave it." Somehow he thought nothing concerning Loki could be labelled. Not anymore. Perhaps if he knew what made the guy tick—

What _had_ made the guy tick.

Tony ran a finger over the holograms, wishing he had the footage from Christmas as well. A new window popped up, and Tony settled back in his chair only to see himself land clumsily while trying to hold Loki in his arms. He watched Loki sit down and himself leave, and he wished he had cameras filming from other angles as well, not only from above, so he could see Loki's face. But then the god lay down. Sighing, he ran a hand over his face. A wrinkle formed between his eyebrows and refused to leave even as he closed his eyes.

The Tony on the screen reappeared shortly after, and the one watching kept his eyes on the scene playing out before him. He remembered most things. But there were things he didn't know anymore, and things he never had. The exact words being said, that belonged in the first category. Loki looking at him every time the Tony on screen turned away, well, that was certainly in the second.

He came to a part where none of them was doing anything interesting, Tony himself playing with the tablet, and Loki sleeping, and watched the god's face for a while before fast-forwarding the footage.

Loki looked pitiful in his half-asleep state, chocking on water. Miserable, actually. One truly did learn something new every day.

"Jar …" Tony coughed to clear his throat. "Jarvis, play me the part where he leaves."

"Yes, sir."

Loki stirred. His eyes opened—"Zoom in, Jarvis, zoom in!"—a startling but absent green. Slowly, he pushed himself in a sitting position—strain showed on his face before the angle of the camera made it impossible to get a good look at it—noticing the cats. He reached out without a word and scratched Chloris between the ears. Her head perked up, and she moved so that he body was pressed against Loki's thigh. Lumi moved as well, positioning herself on the god's lap. He stroked her, too. Both cats leaned into his touch. Tony would bet his collection of cars they were purring.

"He's taking good care of you, isn't he?" Loki's fingers travelled through black fur. Lumi pressed her head into his abdomen, and Loki sighed. "At least he accepted you."

Wondering if he should feel insulted by the statement, Tony watched elegant pale fingers work. Damn, the cats were crazy about Loki. They _had_ to consider him somehow different, had to feel he wasn't human, because there was no way they could know he'd saved their lives. Cats just couldn't do that.

Loki lifted Lumi off his lap, placing her onto the couch, and reached for his boots. He didn't say anything else, just stood still for a while, looking around the place, then made a step towards the windows but changed his mind. He picked up the water bottle—how had Tony not noticed it had disappeared?—and walked to the elevator.

"Jarvis?"

Ah, so he'd remembered the AI's name.

"Yes, Mr …?"

Loki didn't fill the gap with a surname. "Would you let me take my leave?"

"Yes, sir."

The elevator opened, and Tony felt betrayed. He kept his eyes on Loki as the latter stepped in, but didn't follow the rest of his way down. Instead, he pushed the window aside and, sipping the scotch, opened the second video. He watched, he listened, he remembered. Many things resurfaced, now that he let them. The wish to go back in time and slap himself (hard) grew by the minute.

The Tony on footage left the scene. Loki lay on the bed for a while, completely still. Eventually, he turned onto his side. His torso twisted as he pressed his face into the pillow. Perhaps a minute passed before he rolled onto his other side. His hands gripped the sheets hard enough for his knuckles to go white, then released. Another minute or so later, he slid off the bed. If the movement of his head was anything to go by, his gaze was roaming the room. Not that there was much to see. Curtains were partly drawn, hiding the better portion of the enormous windows. There was the bed, two chests of drawers, a door to a walk-in closet, expensive paintings (they'd make a nice gift for Pepper), some papers scattered around, and a plant that really needed watering.

Loki disappeared into the bathroom for a couple of minutes. When he emerged, he began walking around the room, fingers tracing the walls, the upper edge of the chests of drawers. His movements were fluent but hesitant as if it hurt to move. The predatory elegance Tony remembered was gone.

The god came to a stop. A moment passed, two, ten, and he reached for the papers on top of the chest of drawers.

"Please don't." Jarvis' voice filled the room. Loki winced back. "These are personal belongings of Mr Stark."

True enough. It was something about his research, and Tony wouldn't want Loki to take anything. Jarvis had known. But now that the Trickster was gone it seemed a much rougher thing to say, especially given the single curt nod Loki gave and his retreat back to the bed. He pulled a paperback out of his duffel bag, took a sip of water, and began to read. Tony could see the book's title, but he didn't care much anyway.

It turned our Loki spent about two hours reading. Tony skipped most of it, of course, and continued watching at the point when Loki put the book back into the bag. He settled against the pillow. His eyes closed, the rhythm of his breathing slowed.

It didn't last long, though. Good fifteen minutes later, the god's face was contorted, sweat glistering on his pale skin, and he was trashing around. Words Tony didn't understand spilled from his lips; they weren't English. A pained sound followed. Loki's body shook, he muttered something again, words turning into a groan, and Tony began wondering why Jarvis hadn't alerted him—the sight was disturbing, and Tony wished he could just shake the god and yell at him to wake the hell up—when Loki's eyes abruptly opened.

It wasn't fear that filled them, it was terror.

Loki pulled himself up into a sitting position, drew his knees to his chest, and buried his head in his hands, breathing heavily. Tremors shook his body. His hands slid to his upper arms, fingers pressing in, knuckles turning white.

Tony's heart sank. Something cold settled in the pit of his stomach. It hurt to watch, but he couldn't tear his eyes away, not even when Loki tore his sleeves away (Tony didn't even know if it was on purpose, the god's eyes were so empty) and nails broke the reddened skin, not even when the god produced a knife from his bag (a makeshift weapon, most likely, other possibilities were too disturbing), or when crimson blossomed like strange flowers on snow. Tony watched him tear his own skin, whimper, mutter strange words, and he felt cold and sick and wrong, and he couldn't look away for a second. The scotch was forgotten.

It didn't help seeing himself wrestle with Loki, or hearing the latter's desperate words that refused to stop echoing in his mind, and god, everything that was said afterwards, that was just wrong. Tony tried to swallow the knot in his throat. It wouldn't dissolve. His fingers trembled when he reached out to skip the sleeping part; he couldn't find his voice to tell Jarvis to fast-forward to Loki's waking up.

It took the god a while to become fully aware. He sat up, palm pressed against his forehead. Sheets pooled around his waist. He propped himself on one hand and then remained still, just staring at Tony, who had never wanted to see Loki's expression quite so badly as in this moment. But he couldn't. He needed to install extra cameras, he—

Loki tentatively reached out towards the man's face, but his fingertips stopped an inch away from the skin. He pulled the hand back. Reached out again. Pale fingers ghosted over Tony's cheek, and the real Tony couldn't move. That such a simple gesture could hold so much affection … Loki loved—_had_ loved him, and he, what had he done? Had a cheeky remark ready at all times? He'd been concerned with weirdness and playing Tony Stark the comedian, and Loki … Loki …

Loki took the other Tony's hand in his own. Slowly, ever so very slowly, he lifted it to his face, letting it hover there for a moment or two, and pressed his lips to the knuckles, then did it again.

Something inside Tony shattered.

Loki was _gone._

* * *

He should have been a lot drunker, seeing as hours had passed since he'd began sipping that damned scotch. But it had lost its taste, and what alcohol he did have in his blood dulled the burn, and it seemed to take an eternity and tremendous effort to lift the bottle to his lips, so the pauses between the sips had been rather long.

The penthouse was dark. Some quiet music served as background noise; the usual blaring had made Tony's head throb, and even his music could be played discreetly. Nobody was there but him. They were decent, exemplary citizens who attended charity parties. Pepper had tried to convince him to change his mind, but Jarvis had kept the doors locked, and after Tony muted him, Pepper's words couldn't reach him anymore. He'd known sound-proof walls were a good idea for reasons other than loud one-night stands. Not that he'd ever brought them to the workshop.

Nobody was there to disturb him now, so he was perched on the sofa and cradling the scotch-bottle like it was the most precious thing in the world, wishing he were drunk enough to pass out, and simultaneously not wanting to go there.

He'd fed Lumi and Chlo, but it was about the only thing he'd done, and even that had probably been possible only because he'd done it so many times before his muscles could go through the process even if someone took the brain out of his head and used it as the newest plaything. Quite of like drinking, actually.

He took a sip. It barely burned.

Would any of the Avengers return here after the party? Pepper would have done it, back then when they'd only had each other. She'd admitted that much, once. Years ago. Before she got Agent. Now they'd probably have a private after party. In bed. And Tony refused to think about beds. Even his own.

He wished she'd come.

The realisation was a bit surprising, though it was hardly the first time he'd wished for something like that. This time though, there was no guarantee he wouldn't be left alone. In fact, he probably would be.

He didn't really deserve his friends. Never had. He'd just grown used to their being there, first Pepper, than Bruce, and Steve, and the others. As much as he didn't mean to hurt them, he so often did.

People cared, and that was how he repaid them.

Still, he wished somebody would come.

But when he fell asleep a little before four in the morning, he was alone.

* * *

A/N: For some reason, i love writing people bantering. Although it's a bit hard Wit Pepper and Tony because they keep talking at the same time in the movies ...

Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Review? Pletty please? *Puss-in-boots-from-Shrek eyes*


	8. Chapter 8: August 7 - October 5

A/N: Mmmm, as you've surely guessed, Loki will come back. Of course it would be too nice if everything went well ... But for now, here, have some angst. I blame FelicityGS's Loki's Blanket, and Limmet's Poetic Justice for that. They're awesome fics. Beyond awesome. Go read them.

Well, I'm sure there's some more sruff I should say here, because I always forget something, but oh well ... Hm. I'm starting to regret the format of this fic. It prevents me from writing cliffhangers ...

* * *

_I__f love is truth then let is break my heart  
If love is fear, lead me to the dark  
If love is a game, I'm playing all my cards  
What is love? What is love?_

_A pain or a cure, a science of faith__  
__A reason to fall to your knees and die  
What is love?_

_~Take That: What Is Love_

**August 7****th**

Tony pulled Loki's duffel bag from under the bed where he'd pushed it. The feeling on intruding wouldn't leave him; he was practically about to pry into Loki's life here on Earth. Perhaps that was the reason he stared at it unmoving until his knees began to hurt, and he was forced to switch his position and sat down cross-legged.

The zipper wasn't closed. Slowly, Tony pushed the fabric apart. The first thing that came into view was a worn out paperback. The edges of its covers were torn, and something unidentifiable stained the upper right quarter. It had certainly seen better times, but Tony picked it up carefully, more carefully than he'd ever held any of his stupidly expensive paintings, and turned it around. Shakespeare. Figured. Aesir spoke all renaissance-like, of course Loki would enjoy Shakespeare. Tony had never even sniffed one of the guy's plays before. He'd just … got innovative in school.

He sat the book aside, wondering where Loki'd got it, or how many times he'd read it.

Tony's attention returned to the duffel bag. He found clothes, some bathroom items, two pens, and a small notebook, which he flipped open only to find … sketches? All of them seemed to be drawn with the same blue pen. Some pages were missing, having been torn out. Tony noticed Stark tower somewhere. The temptation to go through the drawings carefully was strong, but he put the notebook down on the floor.

The last thing he found was a thin plastic folder with some folded pages.

Tony's heart sank. He recognised them before he even took them out.

Newspaper articles. About him.

There were four altogether. First was some gala night at the theatre (what could he say, Pepper could be damn persuasive). The second was just ranting about clear energy, in the third he was being badmouthed (probably by some ex one-night stand), and the last a report (or rather guesswork) about the Avengers' part in the protection of the city when those repulsive creatures had appeared. All articles came with pictures.

Tony let his eyes wander over the items for a while. Then suddenly, he stuffed everything back into the bag and pushed it under the bed.

* * *

**August 8****th**

He watched the end of that footage of his bedroom. Again.

He slept on the couch that night.

* * *

**August 10****th**

He was trying to work. He really was. All the tools and materials were spread out before him, but his hands always remained hovering just above them. At least he managed to tinker with his suits. Or polish them. That had to count for something. Paperwork, too. Signing wasn't too demanding.

And his cats liked to keep him company while he worked.

Tried to work.

* * *

**August 13****th**

He watched the whole footage. Except for the part where Loki let himself fall. Tony wasn't sure he could manage seeing that again.

* * *

**August 14****th**

Loki's drawings were good. Maybe a bit odd, but had talent. Had had. The motives varied from Stark tower and Central park to a close-up of a horse's head and places Tony didn't know. He recognised buildings-shaped objects on some of them. Bits of floating rock on one page, but they were hard to see; the drawing was dark.

All of them were dark, cloaked by some darkness thicker than night.

That night, he dreamed about stars, and exploding spaceships, and falling. He woke up gasping, covered in cold sweat.

* * *

**August 18****th**

He watched Loki reading his book for the whole two hours.

* * *

**August 20****th**

Tony read the book himself.

* * *

**August 21****st**

And did it again.

Twice.

He dreamt about Loki for the first time.

* * *

**August 31****st**

He'd taken to sleeping on 'Loki's' side of the bed. Nobody needed to know he kept that paperback under his pillow. Nobody needed to know the god's pale face haunted him in his sleep. Nobody needed to know he held at least one of his cats close enough to be able to touch her before he closed his eyes.

He hated being alone.

But he didn't know what to do with company. He could appease the general public; a flashy smile here, a cocky comment there. He discussed company business with Pepper. (Well, he let her talk.) He boxed with Happy, and talked about returning to civilization with Bruce.

But he was afraid of meeting any of them in an empty room with nothing to do.

* * *

**September 9****th**

He knew the footage by heart. And he probably needed to go though certain Shakespeare's plays only one more time to know them, too.

* * *

**September 14****th**

He found all the other Shakespeare's works that weren't included in Loki's book and began reading.

* * *

**September 25****th**

He wanted to see Loki smile. But Loki had only given him one genuine smile. So Tony watched his serious expression instead.

* * *

**September 30****th**

He still wanted to see the god's smile.

* * *

**October 3****rd**

He gave in. It hurt, somewhere behind his breastbone, to watch, but he did. Again and again, because Loki smiled at him, but Loki _died_ every time Tony had Jarvis play the video, and the man watched, and then he couldn't bear it anymore.

He walked to the bar and grabbed the first thing that he got his hands on. He didn't count, just kept drinking until the world turned black.

* * *

**October 4****th**

Morning greeted him with the worst headache in the history of headaches, and strange beeping. The ceiling was unfamiliar, a cold white colour, and the smell was all wrong. It was hard to keep his eyes opened.

"Tony."

A hand squeezed his own.

He knew that voice. A woman. Pepper? Right, Pepper.

"Pep," he said weakly. "You came."

"And you're damn lucky I did." She scowled at him. "Don't ever do something like that again. Can you imagine how it felt to be awoken in the middle of the night and told by Jarvis that you passed out from drinking? If I didn't get you to a hospital …"

"Sorry." Man, he felt lousy. His stomach was turning, and he wanted to throw up but knew he couldn't. His eyelids were so heavy. "But you … came."

"Yes. Just don't ever, _ev_e_r _do this again. I'm taking alcohol away from you forever if you even think about it. Why did do it anyway?"

"I … I wanted to …"

"What? Tony, what?"

"You … came."

Somewhere, at the edge of his conscience, he heard Pepper murmur something about sleep.

* * *

**October 5****th**

He wanted to go back in time and run faster. But no footage in the world could enable him that.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading. Enjoy the rest of the weekend. Reviews, maybe?


	9. Chapter 9: October 12

A/N: As always, thank you for reviews, faves, alerts, reading, recs ... Short chapter again, but at this point, there's nothing else to happen. Next chapter is going to be short as well, and then I promise something longer.

* * *

**October 12****th**

_It's so hard to keep it inside when you let it out and it doesn't come back. You're left so alone that you can't explain._

_Henry Rollins__: __The Portable Henry Rollins_

Tony sat on the sofa, nursing a tumbler. He didn't drink; there was only water in the glass, because he'd promised Pepper not to drink himself comatose again. Coffee was out of question, too, since Jarvis claimed it was four in the morning, and Tony was actually wishing for sleep to come.

No such luck yet. He's spent a while reading Shakespeare (Othello tonight), but his eyes had refused to focus on some point, and now he was sitting in half-darkness with a closed book in his lap. (Not Loki's. Loki's book was still under his pillow.)Chloris lay on the other couch.

The drinking escapade had told him one thing; he wasn't coping. Loki's death _hurt_. More than Tony thought should be allowed. After all, Loki had been nothing to him. Nothing like Obadiah. Though in a way, they'd been exactly the opposite. Obadiah had been like father to Tony only to betray him. Loki had shown his worse side first, and then …

Tony refused to go there. There were things he simply couldn't understand (like why, why in the world, and when, and how, and had he mentioned why?).

But he understood he had to find a way to deal with the situation. After Afganistan, after Obadiah, he'd had a purpose, something that had driven him and refused to let him sleep. He just had to find one now, too, and all would be fine.

Turned out reading Shakespeare wasn't much of a purpose. Hell, Tony hadn't read a word from that man until two months ago.

It seemed his plan was failing miserably.

Sighing, he pushed the tumbler away. His head hit the pillow. With his luck, he was probably going to last about 78.3 seconds before turning and huffing in annoyance …

Instead, he found himself on the craziest field trip in history of giant hamsters. Eee, field trips. Giant hamsters were just the main sight. Tony hadn't known they had an independent country. His teacher told him he better remember it for the next test.

At least the hamsters were peaceful. Perhaps a bit purple here and there, but peaceful.

He was in an elevator, going down for what had to be enough time for his grandchildren to grow up. A lagoon opened in front of him—was this the hamster-country still?—the doors closed behind him. Ships rocked on the sea. Tony couldn't _see_ any hamsters. There was a waffle stand, though, and their intoxicating smell drifting into the air, but it was abandoned. Not a single person was in sight.

Strange.

Tony started walking down the coast, observing the ships. Sometime later, his eyes narrowed. Was it just him, or did he constantly keep passing the same group? Was he moving at all? Why wasn't he moving?

Panic kicking in, he ran.

He was in his penthouse again. Something hard was pressing into his side, and his vision was blurry at best.

Loki stood above him. His skin had a blue-ish tint to it, shadows sharpened his features. He was still, and silent, and otherworldly.

This was not the hamster land anymore, was it?

Tony ached with the desire to reach out, to touch that pale skin, caress, explore, he burned with the desire, but his body was a death weight, limbs unmoving like they were not his own at all.

Why couldn't he move? Why?

He wanted Loki, godamnit, he didn't care what the hamsters said, he needed Loki!

His lips moved a little. Tony wasn't sure if he'd made a sound; all of his energy was channelled into moving his hand. The one closer to the god. If he could only lift it and touch him …

But Loki was out of reach, and Tony was still running past the ships. Or was it again?

* * *

"Tony. Tony."

"Mnhhh …"

"Wake up. Tony. Tony? Are you okay?"

"'m fine … Lemme …" Sleep. That was what the blissful nothingness was called. Tony needed more of that. But his side throbbed painfully, luring a pained groan out of his mouth. Exhausting as it was, he managed to reach under himself and pull out a book.

"Stupid thing." Sitting up, he put it on the coffee table. Pepper's eyebrows rose.

"Since when do you read Shakespeare?"

"August 20."

"Tony."

"What now? No, let me guess, I missed a meeting? Overslept an interview?" He rubbed his eyes.

"No. Nothing like that."

"Hmm, give me five minutes to wake up, I'll think of something else then."

"Don't." She made herself comfortable on the couch opposite to his. Wearing casual clothes, too.

"Wait. It's Saturday. It has to be Saturday."

Tony felt … well, not lousy. Just tired. Like he hadn't slept at all. He wasn't sure whether he was more happy or sad over the fact he'd dreamed about Loki again. It had been so real, so tangible he could almost believe Loki had actually stood there, mere feet away from where Tony sat now. For some reason, that sent spikes through his heart. And turned them for good measure.

Pepper nodded.

"What is it then? Did I do something wrong?"

"No." Her voice could be so gentle sometimes. He really didn't deserve her. "Tony, even you don't do stupid things all the time."

"You're right." The billionaire sighed. "Only when it matters." His eyes found the windows. How easily the glass had broken at contact with his body, how loudly the sound echoed in Tony's ears, and then it had only been down, down, down …

"What's troubling you?"

Sighing, his gaze travelled back to Pepper. She was so much better at Talking than him. Tony Stark didn't do sentiment. Yet Tony Stark was currently being successfully defeated by his sentiment. Life had a bitter sense of humour.

"I'm bad with people," he said.

"Usually."

"Oh, just usually." He tried to smile. "That ought to mean sometimes I'm not. No matter. What I mean is … I'm sorry." He swallowed. "You've been there for me for so long now. You kept my feet on the ground. Or close enough. After Afghanistan, after Obi … And then after palladium. You complained, and quit a couple of times, and yelled at me a lot, but you were there. To help. And I let my stress out on the first person I could find, or I raced in Monaco, or, or I laughed, and teased you, and always had to be smart, and when you tried to be serious I'd stab you with some smartass remark"—and true enough, he did that to all his friends, but was he really talking about Pepper here?—"but you always came back. I mean, you quit, and you said you were giving up on me, but then you were there when I needed you"—yes, he was—"even if I didn't know, and now you're still good to me, and I still hurt you. I hurt everybody. And I'm sorry. I really don't have a brain-to-mouth filter."

Pepper didn't say anything for a while. Her hands rested on her thighs. Then,

"People do that. They hurt each other."

"Perhaps. But when have I ever been there for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's always been about me." God, he wished for a drink right now. "About me getting in trouble, or getting the company in trouble, or us, or I know not what. About my crises, my issues, my quirks. You were there for my problems. I never even knew yours."

"Tony, you needed me. After Obadiah's attempts … My problems weren't quite so bad."

She was missing the point. One's own troubles were always the worst ones, but even _that_ was not the point.

"What if I'm not capable of forgetting about myself and just focusing on somebody else? I don't even see when people need help …"

He'd thought he'd stopped being a selfish bastard when the Iron Man had been born. In reality, he'd just begun considering what his actions caused on a larger scale. And maybe he did well there. Maybe he could help the Avengers, maybe he could protect masses. Focused on that, he'd forgotten he was still selfish. Or egocentric. No, selfish. Just behind the closed doors. Cameras never needed to know.

He didn't want to be, though.

"You helped many people. You do realise that?"

"As Iron Man. Not me. What have I ever done as Tony Stark?"

Pepper sighed. She stood up, crossed what little space separated them, and sat down beside him. "Listen to me, Anthony Edward Stark. You are a great man. You're trying to bring peace to the world, you invest in clean energy, what you're doing is _good_. And you choose the right thing in the most important situations."

"I still don't know which vegetable you're allergic to. Or was it fruit?"

"Strawberries." Pepper placed her hand on his forearm. "But what are strawberries in all this?"

Tony frowned. Why did she pretend she hadn't been hurt about his not knowing? "A card," he said. "In a house of cards. Without it, the house won't stand." He paused, hoping his throat would become less dry. "That's why we didn't work together."

She didn't answer. There was no need.

"Do we work now, as friends? Like those cards don't matter anymore?"

"It's different," she said quietly. "You know that. And I still love you. As family. Perhaps we were never meant for something else."

"But did you ever love me?" Tony asked, because that last sentence of hers was better left untouched. Even with a ten feet pole. "The way you love Agent?"

Her eyes fell to her hands, now resting in her lap. "Not … in the same way. Similarly. But not the same."

Tony nodded. He understood that. Perhaps he always had.

Pepper glanced at him. "You look tired. Have you slept at all?"

"You tell me."

"You were snoring pretty loudly. I suppose it means you have."

"Yeah. I just dreamed about—"

"About?" she urged.

"Giant hamsters. They were peaceful. Nice fellas. But … it was too real. Like h—Like I wasn't asleep at all."

"Hey." Her hand rubbed his shoulder. "It happens. Do you want to go out?"

"Fresh air?" Tony shrugged. "Why not. Tell me, Pep, how much would you have had to love me to have stayed?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

Tony shrugged. She sighed.

"I don't know. You can't measure love. Some things just don't work."

_And yet Loki kept coming back._ Coincidences or not, their last meeting had not happened because of fate. Loki had not been in the "wrong" part of the city because of fate. The thought made something in Tony's gut clench.

He didn't mean to say the next words. He didn't even know he thought them until they filled the air of the penthouse and it was impossible to snatch them back.

"You think somebody will?"

She looked at him then. Attentively. Kindly. But she didn't lie. They weren't kids after all.

"Perhaps."

It tortured him more than he'd ever be willing to admit that perhaps somebody already had.

And he still didn't understand why.

* * *

A/N: Reviews mean the world to me ...


	10. Chapter 10: October 23

A/N: Here, to make Monday more bearable XD

Thank you all for the response (of any kind), and a special thanks to Inthara for helping me out with some details.

Next chapter will be longer, I swear. But this one is, um, one of the reasons the story is rated M. Enjoy ^^

* * *

**October 23****rd**

_We loved in a time before the fall  
Welcome to the arms of solitude  
Beneath us the heat that hearts exude  
Is this really heaven?  
We'd fight with the gods for our dreams  
Where paradise falls eternity screams_

_Die Welt - ein Tor*_  
_u tausend Wuesten stumm und kalt_  
_Wer das verlor, was du verlorst,_  
_Macht nirgends halt_

_Crystallized as starlight_  
_Lost in paradise_

_~Sarah Brightman: How Can Heaven Love Me_

Loki was gorgeous in moonlight, his silky skin shimmering like the finest pearls, the blue-ish hue to his hair, dark eyes, half veiled by shadows, in stark contrast with the pronounced paleness of his face. An angel and a demon; dark as night, sweet as sin.

Tony pushed himself into a sitting position.

"You haunt me," he half whispered, half murmured. "You won't leave me alone, you won't let me have my peace. Must you tempt me so?"

Loki stood, still and silent. Even like that, passive beyond compare, he was irresistible. A temptation. _The_ temptation.

Tony beckoned to him with a single finger, and the god came, like a ghost, to the bed, doing nothing but obeying the wordless command even when Tony stood up and ran his knuckles down Loki's neck; his skin was smooth, and soft, and inviting.

"Beautiful," Tony breathed over Loki's collarbone and pushed a strand of hair away from those to-die-for cheekbones. His thumb traces Loki's lip.

"You'll be all mine. To make it up for my lost peace …" He pushed the thumb past those soft lips, past the teeth, and pulled it out again, smearing saliva over Loki's chin. Going lower still, his fingers settled on the trembling pulse, partly encircling the pale column of the god's throat.

Tony wanted to see more of that smooth skin, wanted to feel it, _needed_ to feel it.

"You'll be all mine," he repeated, the whisper sending shivers down his own back. As fast as he could, he unbuttoned Loki's shirt, pushed it off his shoulders, and then his palms slid over slender sides.

Loki's breathing hitched, and Tony _wanted_. He was practically devouring the pale body before him with his gaze. Suddenly, all of his blood rushed down to his groin. He wanted to mark this skin as his own, mark Loki, he wanted …

Tony's hands found Loki's shoulders and slowly pressed downwards. There was no resistance. Tony sank down, too, coming to sit on the bed again, and swallowed.

Loki looked sinful like that, on his knees, one shoulder bathed in moonlight, hair scattered over his clavicles, the ends curling on his chest, and though shadows hid his face Tony couldn't find it in himself to complain.

He had a god kneeling between his legs. The thought alone made him shudder with lust. His erection throbbed.

"Silvertongue, they call you." He stroked Loki's clavicle, ran his fingers down to roll a nipple between them. Loki trembled, and Tony was going to go crazy if he remained untouched for another moment—

A hand ghosted over his crotch, and Tony moaned. He felt Loki tug at his pyjama bottoms, and lifted his hips so they and the boxers could be pulled down. He wasn't sure where they ended, but he couldn't care less. His fingers found their way in Loki's hair and pulled, and then the god's mouth was on him, and fuck, did that feel good, so very good. Mind-blowing. Tony felt a tongue dance around the head, then follow the vein on the underside to the hilt and up again.

Small noises he would never admit having made escaped his throat, fingers tugging at Loki's inky hair. Tony's eyes slid closed.

This was heaven. It couldn't be anything else. Nothing had ever—oh. Loki sucked, licked, occasionally nibbled on the sensitive skin, driving Tony crazy, and the man fell back on the bed, hands gripping the sheets. He bucked his hips, needing, wanting, moaning shamelessly (_so good, so good, so good_). Suddenly, Loki's mouth was all around him, and didn't—ohhh—god's have gag reflexes?

Tony was probably writhing on the sheets. Who cared. He nearly saw stars—scratch that, he saw stars, he saw a whole new fucking galaxy, and he … He … Loki's throat was so warm and so tight, and Tony … Tony was going to … He was going to …

Stars exploded. Pleasure shook his whole body, but Loki didn't pull away, and Tony kept coming and coming until it became too much, too much pleasure, too much pain, too much everything. He was reduced to a boneless, shivering mess while the world started to turn black.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered Loki's mouth had slipped away.

* * *

Sunrays caressed his face. A familiar masculine voice with British accent announced the date and the weather, and—

"Mute."

Tony blinked. And yawned. Turning onto his back, he was perfectly ready to doze off again. He had two more hours until the board meeting, and he reasoned sleeping was a better way to spend them than dragging himself around, patting his cats, and throwing longing glances at the bar. Oh, and remembering Loki's death all over again.

Loki.

_Loki._

Tony growled in frustration, fist slamming down on the mattress.

"Fuck."

He did not need that.

Not that he hadn't dreamed about him before. Not that none of the dreams had been disturbing; how many times had he caressed Loki's face and tasted his lips? Ran his fingers through his hair? But he'd never done anything like that.

Oh, the blow job had been fantastic. Loki bathed in moonlight, his lean body, his lips, his …

No. Bad Tony. That was what those stupid dreams brought him; fantasies. Stupid, frustrating fantasies. He didn't even know where they'd come from. But they were here, disturbing, and firmly settled in his mind, and he wanted Loki now, thank you very much, stupid dreams, but could not have him.

Empty fantasies were all he'd got. Some blurry dreams. And now that, a dream that had felt entirely too real. How good it had been to go with it, to enjoy while he didn't know he was sleeping.

He growled once more, pushing the covers aside. A cold shower was in order. Very cold.

He had no idea how he was supposed to get through the meeting without having his thoughts wander in the wrong direction. Although, every direction that ended with Loki was wrong. Yet somehow the god seemed to be the one thing all his thoughts led to.

Tony dropped his pyjamas.

Wasn't his life just great?

* * *

He still had no purpose.

* * *

A/N: *The approximate translation would be something like that:

The world - a door

To thousand deserts, silent and cold

Who lost what you lost

Stops nowhere

I know you're all just dying to review, so please, don't let anything hold you back ^^


	11. Chapter 11: December 17

A/N: I know you've all been waiting for this chapter. Or rather for what's gonna happen. So ...

Oh, right, you can listen to Loveless OST: Tragedies and Two Steps From Hell: Darkness, preferably after the shouting part (you'll know when you get there), but they kinda fit to the whole thing. At least in my mind they do.

Thank you for your lovely reviews!

Warning: implied ... things. (Sorry, I won't spoil it)

* * *

**December 17****th**

_Where there is desire  
__There is gonna be a flame  
__Where there is a flame  
Someone's bound to get burned_

_~Pink: Try_

"Here you are, sir, your suite."

"Excellent." Tony pushed his free hand—the other served as a hanger for his coat—in the pocket of his suit, converse sneakers tapping on the herringbone parquet. Pepper's high-heels made quite a different sound. "Put the luggage in the bedroom."

"Yes, sir." The bellboy scurried through the doors on the right while Tony strode to the balcony and pushed the doors open. Bitter December cold hit his face, but it did the job and woke him up a little more in a way no coffee could. He glanced at his watch.

"Look at that, plenty of time to kill. Wanna go sightseeing?"

"Please." She stepped past him to close the balcony doors. "I've been in DC more times than I can count."

"I'd take you to Venice if Sour Face didn't insist to have the stupid meeting here. Then at least we'd have something from the trip, it's not like I'll sign anything."

"Let them hope."

"Of course. I was the best they ever had. Our military has to repeat kindergarten, Pep, that's worrisome. Aren't you scared for America? 'cause I'm scared. I'm very scared."

"Thank God we've got you then."

"No god. Just my genius."

She looked at him, eyebrows arched. "I'm meeting a friend at Ford Theatre. Do behave. And give the boy a tip."

"What boy?" Tony turned around, eyes coming to rest on the bellboy, who stood some feet away, waiting patiently. "Ah. You boy. Here. Now get me some scotch. The best you have. Chop-chop."

The man was out of his sight before Tony had a chance to inhale for the next time. Money always did wonders, and wasn't that just a little sad?

He ran a hand through his hair. There were literally still hours separating him from the nonsensical meeting with the military representative whose name he never could remember (but Sour Face worked as one perfectly fine). That little bit of fresh air had left him longing for more, so he straightened the scarf that hung around his neck, told the returning bellboy to leave the drink somewhere inside, and took the elevator down, wondering why he couldn't have decided to do that a minute earlier and at least walk Pepper to wherever she'd said she had to go. Because he had no idea whatsoever what to do.

Walking down random streets didn't prove overly entertaining. Tony almost regretted not being a smoker; it would give him an excuse so stay nailed to a stop in front of the hotel for however long he wanted. Or he could do it anyway and glare at everyone who looked at him strangely. Sounded fun enough. And he was bored enough to actually do it.

People passed in hurry. Now, that woman had a lovely coat, he could get Pepper one like that for Christmas. Or perhaps he should tell Agent to buy it for her … What the hell? He was supposed to comment her legs, wasn't he, not the coat!

_Get a grip._

His eyes travelled to the sky, as clear as it would get in December. Gentle sunrays caressed his skin with care. They made the day seem warmer than it actually was. Trickery …

He noticed a person pass with the corner of his eye, still staring upwards, noticed another one come to a halt at the edge of his vision field.

A bird flew over the horizon. Tony's neck started to ache. The shadow in his peripheral vision moved. Backwards.

Curiosity sparked, Tony turned to look.

Time came to a standstill.

He saw his own confusion mirrored in the returning stare.

Loki.

Loki.

_Loki._

How?

Breaking the eye-contact, the god made a step back. With the next one, he turned around, walking, and Tony found himself staring at his back, covered by a black coat.

What? That was it? Loki had come back from the dead, and now he was going to walk away? Just like that?

Tony ran. Perhaps his mind was only playing tricks with him, perhaps he'd finally gone crazy, or all that alcohol had burned something in his brain, but whatever it was, he was not going to let Loki slip through his grasp. Not again.

Immense relief flooded his body when his hands closed around Loki's upper arms.

"What are you doing here?"

Out of all the things he could have asked, that was the one he blurted.

Loki broke out of his hold with ease and turned to face him.

"Trying to build a life. Not that it's any of your business."

The coldness of his tone surprised the billionaire. He stared up at the impassive expression, the guarded, narrowed eyes, and then let his gaze take in the scarf hanging around that pale column of Loki's neck, the coat that almost came down to his knees, black and simple, the boots, the same leather boots he'd seen the Trickster wear every time they'd met in the last year. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail that was decidedly shorter than the one Loki had in Tony's dreams.

He looked … He didn't look bad. There was still a certain kind of pallor to his skin, still faint dark circles under his eyes, but he seemed much healthier than the last time. And though his clothes were far from luxurious, they fit.

His fingers, hidden under black leather gloves, were perfectly still. That alone made a weight drop off Tony's shoulders.

"And you?"

"Hm?"

"What are you doing here?"

There were no emotions in Loki's voice, nothing but a bit of cold wind.

"I have a meeting," Tony replied automatically, "with the military. They still think I'll eventually agree to build weapons for them again."

"Right here? In DC?"

"Yeah. What is it to you?"

What kind of a conversation was that? It wasn't what Tony had meant to say, to ask, nothing like the words he'd whispered in his head so many times when he'd dared to imagine meeting Loki again. This was not the way it was supposed to go. "Look, why don't we—"

"_Don't_ ask me to come in."

"Why? Loki, what's going on here?"

The god regarded him for a few second, jaw set. "Do you have any idea," he drawled, "how hard it is to build a life from nothing? If I were free to do as I please … It could actually be rather amusing. But I need magic, and I _will_ get it back, even if it takes presenting mortals with a web of lies."

"What li—"

"I will not let you waltz in and destroy everything! I _need_ magic—"

"I thought you were dead!"

Loki snorted, façade still perfectly in place.

"You were supposed to."

Tony suddenly felt like somebody had sucked all the oxygen out of air and replaced it with something thick and poisonous that slowly burned every inch of his lungs until they were unable to suck in another breath.

"So it was all some … Some great scheme? You pretend to be here to serve your punishment, play a convincing death, and when I've told everyone else that you're no longer a threat you get to stab us all in the back because our guard is down?" Why did it hurt so _badly_? "Was that your plan? Everything I've seen on the footage … Well, this year's Oscar goes to you, congratulation. I'm sure you'd like to thank the jury. The stage is all yours, and don't mind me, I'll just call Fury real quick."

Maybe if he gave his hands something to do, they'd stop shaking.

Loki's fingers closed around his wrist half a moment later. It didn't hurt, but Tony knew there was no way he could shake his hand free. Great. No suit, no bracelets, no Jarvis. He was fucked.

"No." Something raw entered Loki's eyes. They were just as green as Tony remembered, and that was not fair, because nobody should be allowed to have eyes that green. Least of all treacherous Gods of Chaos.

"That is not what I meant." Loki spoke slowly, as if carefully weighting every single word in his mind before it slipped off his tongue. "I meant to die."

They were close, a mere foot away. Had there been so little distance between them the whole time?

"I didn't. But I wanted you to believe me dead. It would all be easier that way. Now it no longer matters." Another crack in the façade. "You won't just return to your life and let me be."

"Of course I won't!" What was this all about? "I thought you dead! Which, apparently, you aren't. Are you expecting me to pretend we haven't met here?"

Loki pushed Tony's hand aside, letting go of it in the process.

"Of course not. You can't forget this, and I can't be around you. Do you see it now?"

"You'll just walk away," Tony deadpanned. Why? "Disappear again."

He couldn't let that happen.

How could Loki nod like it meant nothing at all?

Tony barely recognised his own voice. "At least I didn't mourn for nothing, then."

Loki blinked. "You mourned." His eyebrows arched just the slightest.

"Yes." He swallowed. "I have ... I have your drawings. If you want them. And the book."

Another crack. He saw blood pouring into that expression from some unhealed wound. Loki's eyebrows came closer together, the ends turned slightly upwards, and Tony had to fight an impulse to reach out and smooth out the wrinkles that formed between them. A battle raged in those brilliant eyes.

"I can't," Loki breathed. "I have ... things to do."

"Come up to my suite." Tony's hand came to rest on the other's biceps. "Please."

Loki didn't answer.

"I still owe you a drink. You didn't even touch that scotch last time."

"I told you not to ask me that." Loki's voice was soft.

"Why?"

He shook his head.

"Is that a no?"

"No."

"It's not a no?" Tony cocked his head. His hand hadn't moved, and he really, really wished the layers of fabric under it would disappear so he could finally touch that smooth pale skin for real. "Come on. We'll just have a drink and … we'll just have a drink. Please. You can't walk away from me like that."

He saw the exact moment Loki's resolve broke. One curt nod, and Tony tugged at his arm to make him follow. He couldn't fight a smile that threatened to curl up his lips.

The foyer they went through was grand, but so was Stark tower; the interior design left no permanent impression on Tony. He had Loki to focus on. A still-breathing Loki. Damn, would it be too inappropriate to shove him against the nearest wall and tear off all that unnecessary fabric right here, right now? Why hadn't he thought about looking for Loki sooner, he could have enjoyed so much more than frustrating dreams …

Pressing the elevator button, Tony frowned.

"Why didn't I doubt your being dead at all?" He noticed Loki tense up a bit. "There should've been a corpse if you'd been dead, and questions asked. How come I didn't notice their absence?" He looked at the god, who returned the stare with a tight-lipped expression.

The doors slid open and they entered.

"There … Is a spell …"

"You played with my mind?" Tony retreated a step, unaware of the action.

"No!" Loki hurried. "I still can't … The All-father, he made sure you—"

"Oh, it was him then, not you, that's such a big difference!" Something ugly stirred in Tony's blood; his mind was restricted territory, the most valuable thing he possessed. "I'm not a puppet you can play with and make it think exactly what you want!"

"Stark, don't be—"

"My thoughts were a fucking lie, and you're telling me what, not to be upset?!"

He felt trapped in there, naked and exposed without the suit. Although if his mind had been compromised, what good would it really do him?

"Listen to me!" Loki grabbed Tony's shoulders, his façade slipping yet a bit more. "It's not mind control, your thoughts were your own."

"Says the God of Lies." Tony snorted. "Well then, humour me."

Loki brought his hands together, right thumb drawing circles on the left palm.

"You think it's that simple." He sounded so very tired all of a sudden. "That I just have to snap my fingers, and you'll be mine to order around as I please. From how much trouble such a trick could have saved me …"

"What did the All-daddy do then?" Tony growled, still on the defensive, as the elevator stopped and the two men entered the corridor.

"Merely … encouraged you to keep your thoughts as they were. If you'd already become suspicious, he couldn't have wiped the doubt out of your mind. But you hadn't, by that time. All he did was … make sure your opinion on a certain subject did not change. Nothing else."

"Ah." Well, that was better than the alternative—if Loki was in fact speaking the truth—but he still felt strangely violated. "And why in the world would Odin do that?"

Tony pushed the door to his suite open and strode inside, then closed it behind Loki.

"I asked him to."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "I wasn't aware you two were on such friendly terms again."

"I bargained for it, if you will. Offered something he couldn't refuse. Not at such a low price."

Now that sounded more like Loki. Only …

"Why did you want me to believe you dead in the first place?"

Tony threw his coat over the backrest of a couch, scarf following a few second later. He didn't sit, though, and Loki didn't, either. He made no attempt to get rid of his coat.

"I had no way of knowing whether my plan would succeed." Loki talked quickly, voice filled with tension. "For all I knew, Odin could have sent me right back to Earth with some sombre threat echoing in my ears. You would have found what? An empty shell? I was this close"—he held his thumb and forefinger about two inches apart—"from losing my mind."

"You're not crazy, though." Loki's fingers hadn't twitched once. At least not that Tony had noticed. "How so?"

Loki's lips stretched into a cold grin. "Odin couldn't resist. I offered something he wants back quite desperately. Unfortunately for him, I need magic to retrieve it."

"And so you saved your skin. How come I don't see you doing your mojo right now?"

A sharp, brittle laugh escaped the god's throat. He lifted both hands and pulled his left sleeve back to reveal a silver metal bracelet—or should it be called a gauntlet?—covering about two inches of his wrist and forearm, a plain design of darker lines running over it in some Celtic-knot pattern.

"I believe you know what this is."

"Yeah." Tony's eyes slid lower, from the silver band to pale skin. He really wasn't supposed to want it so much. But then again, he had never done what he _was_ supposed to do, so …

Loki dropped his arms. His tongue flicked over his upper lip, unconsciously, a nervous gesture perhaps, but god, what it did to Tony. How many times had he dreamed about those lips?

_Too many …_

Slowly, he advanced on Loki. A flicker of confusion passed over the god's face, making Tony wonder what his own expression must look like. He could find out later. They could talk later. Everything could come _later._

"I wish you'd showed up earlier," he said, voice surely at least an octave lower. A befuddled look filled Loki's eyes, and then Tony's lips were on his, and gods yes, that was so much better than in his imagination. His hands found their way into Loki's hair, pulling it free so that black strand fell about his neck, tips reaching the shoulders, and the god gasped, parting his lips. Tony seized the opportunity. He ran his tongue over the other's teeth and pressed their bodies together. One of his hands slid down Loki's back.

The need for oxygen made him pull back.

"You have no idea"—his voice was husky—"how many times I've imagining doing this. Claiming those lips of yours, tasting your skin—"

His mouth was on Loki's again. The god made some whimpering sound that, for some reason, had all of Tony's blood rushing _down. _He stepped forward, making Loki retreat. A hand closed around his shoulder and stayed there, neither pushing nor pulling. Tony didn't know where Loki's other hand was, but he couldn't care less. The Trickster god was letting him ravish him mouth and walk him into the bedroom. It was enough to make Tony's brain malfunction.

He muttered something about wanting, tugged at the black locks, and enjoyed Loki's chocked moan right before the back of the god's legs hit the bed and they both stumbled and landed on it in a tangle of limps.

Tony panted, rubbing himself against Loki's leg.

"Fuck … You're such a tease, you know …"

He bit down on the underside of Loki's jaw, fingers trying to get rid of the thrice damned scarf.

And then the phone rang.

Tony had never wanted to curse quite so much in his life. He had Loki splayed on the bed, and now he should focus on a phone call? Really? Somebody was overestimating his will power way too much. But he fished the phone out of his pocket anyway.

Pepper.

A heavy sigh escaped Tony's lips. He really shouldn't ignore her. Neither should he neglect Loki._ (Lying on his bed!)_ But if he didn't answer the call ...

Loki wasn't going to disappear in thin air.

He pushed onto his feet and walked into the main room of the suite, closing the door behind him. He took a deep breath. If he was to go through this conversation, he needed some blood in the upper head, too.

"Yes?"

"_Hi. I just wanted to make sure you had all the papers ready. You did sign them, right?"_

Groaning, Tony began to pace. "Sure I signed them, I signed everything. Is that all? I love talking to you, really, but I was just about to get laid, so …"

He could practically see the disapproval on her face.

"_Really Tony? You found another blonde whose name you forgot the moment she told it to you?"_

"Nope, not a blonde. I've had too many of those already. And you can't seriously expect me to remember their names, even _my_ memory is not that good. Besides, names are completely irrelevant, they don't make anyone a better fu—"

Tony lost the ability to speak. Loki stood at the door, staring at him, eyebrows pulled together, with mouth half-opened, and eyes filled to the point of spilling. Tony thought he recognised love somewhere in their depth. Pain overshadowed it easily.

"_Tony?"_

He paid her no mind. His eyed were on pale demigod, who seemed to be frozen to a spot.

"I didn't mean it like that …"

Somehow, he managed to end the call.

A wave of anger and cold determination washed over Loki's features.

"Spare me!" he snapped. "You're just like everybody else, only interested in my powers, or my position, or my body! It's always do this and do that, Loki, the mason is going to finish on time, distract him, Loki, get her new hair or I'll make you regret you were born, Loki, Mjolnir's been stolen, find a way to retrieve it, Loki, fight like a man, Loki, step aside, Loki, it's your brother's day, Loki, know your place, Loki, this is madness, no, Loki, Loki, don't scream, you're hurting my ears, Loki, s—"—he flexed his fingers, eyes ablaze—"Loki, get the Tesseract, Loki, hold your tongue, Loki, don't lie, Loki, solve this, _well, solve your shit on your own!_"

The god stormed towards the suite door like a hurricane. Tony reached out for him automatically, but as soon as his fingers made contact with Loki's arm, the latter turned and punched him in the jaw strong enough to make him discover a whole new galaxy. He reeled and ended on the floor, pain blossoming in his backside.

The door slammed shut.

Ouch.

Tony had a feeling 'woopss' would not even begin to cover it. Loki's voice was a blur of anger in his mind, with bit and pieces sticking out, sharp enough to reduce the functioning capacity of the billionaire's mind to the minimum.

Okay. One thing at a time. First: Tony Stark should probably be punched. Again. Fuck, he hadn't even found out how Loki'd survived his stunt. Was it his old man's work?

Did it really matter? The god was alive and—

Yes. It mattered.

Still.

"Jarvis?" Tony stared at his phone, overwhelmed by an urge to say everything out loud. "Loki is alive."

"I know, sir."

"You know. Of course you know, you know everything. It's just me that finds things out last."

"Excuse me, sir, but I was under the impression you knew."

"What?" A frown wrinkled Tony's forehead as he stared intently at the phone. He missed not having Jarvis all around the place. "No, I didn't. How was I supposed to know that?"

"I believe I told you he disappeared. The cameras never caught him hit the ground."

"What?"

"You said yes, sir."

"_What?"_

Tony's brain struggled to comprehend the information. This couldn't possibly be true. He wouldn't have just forgotten. But Jarvis wasn't programmed to lie.

"When?"

"Right after the incident, sir. You were still outside."

"Outside." On his knees.

Tony pressed a hand against forehead, rubbing. He remembered vaguely now, Jarvis saying something he hadn't registered. It had never been brought up again, and Tony hadn't watched himself kneel like a believer whose prayers had been denied.

"I was in shock." As if he had to warrant anything to Jarvis.

"Understood. I know you haven't addressed the issue, sir, but given the current circumstances I feel obliged to inquire about your reasons for failing to notice the other times."

Something cold rushed down Tony's backbone. His guts twisted in a knot.

"Failing to notice … what?"

"Mr Odinson's presence, sir."

"Loki's presence."

"Yes, sir."

"What Loki's presence? When?"

"He came to the tower four times. The first would be October 12—"

"You _let_ him in the tower?" Had Jarvis lost his mind? This was Loki they were talking about!

"You had allowed him entrance before and acted rather hospitable, sir. He was not listed as a threat anywhere in my database, and he agreed I was to lock down the building and contact SHIELD immediately should he attempt to harm you in any way. And, if I may add, sir, he seems to have an affinity for your cats."

All true. "But you let him in. How could you let _Loki_ in without asking? He is a wanted criminal!"

What was wrong with the world? Loki had decided to come back from the dead, Jarvis suddenly had a mind on his own ... Okay, Jarvis was supposed to have some kind of a mind, but Tony had not designed his AI to let people wander around in his penthouse unnoticed.

"I will have to disagree, sir. According to SHILED's documents, he is not wanted. They have entrusted his punishment into Thor's hands."

"Okay." That almost made sense. "Wanted or not, you're not supposed to let people in without my permission or their having a high enough clearance. Why did you allow it in the first place?"

"He asked me, sir. Considering his fall seemed to have upset you, I thought you would be glad to see him."

"Right," Tony grumbled, shifting his weight and crossing his legs. "Only I apparently didn't actually get to see him."

"Your vital signs showed you were awake two times."

That was ridiculous. Surely he would have remembered …

"No. No, no, no, no, Jarvis, no! Are you telling me that wasn't just a dream? Dreams? Weren't? Fuck, that actually happened?!"

_This couldn't be happening this couldn't be happening this couldn't be happening …_

"Fuck! That means—fuck. I actually got a blowjob from a god?" Now that was an ego boost if he'd ever got one. But if all that had really happened, why had Loki not stayed? Why hadn't he made sure Tony knew he was there?

_I can't be around you._

Why?

Loki loved him, did he not? Tony could understand him for wanting to stay away in case he lost his mind (oh, and Loki was getting a kick in the butt for what had been done to _Tony's_ mind), but that wasn't an issue any longer, right? Had Tony hurt him so much? He could be an idiot, true, and he had said some pretty rude things, but it couldn't have been that bad …

Okay, it could easily have been bad enough. He'd poked and prodded and all that. Every time they'd scratched the surface of something deeper, he had some Tony-Stark joke ready. Harmless most of the times, but with feelings added to the equation …

"And what did Loki do on his … visits?" When he had not been busy giving the best blowjob in the world … (At least Tony's half-asleep brain had filed it away as the best.)

"Nothing, sir, save for the last time. That would be when—"

"Yes, yes, thank you, I know. Damn, if I'd been aware he was there, I wouldn't have let him sneak away. He gives fantastic blowjobs."

"I will trust your word on that, sir, although I don't think Mr Odinson enjoyed it quite as much as you did. He seemed unwell."

Tony frowned. He hadn't been expecting to hear that (apparently the day was just full of surprises). "What do you mean—unwell?"

"Do you want to see the footage, sir?"

"Might as well." Tony placed the phone on the floor.

His room came into view, shrouded by darkness; Tony just loved his capable-of-filming-in-every-circumstances cameras. And oh, he loved seeing Loki on his knees again, although it did nothing for his train of thought. He forced himself to watch, fighting his rising desire. Nothing seemed to be wrong, still a frown found its way onto his face.

Tony on screen cried out in ecstasy, body convulsing (really, how come he hadn't thought to watch himself climax before in all those years, just for curiosity's sake), and Loki slowly pulled away. He retreated a bit, still on his knees. One of his hands covered his mouth. The real Tony's eyes were on him, his own image nearly forgotten.

Loki held his head low as he ever so slowly got on his feet and soundlessly made his way into the bathroom. The door was closed with just as much care. Tony merely blinked, but that was all the time it took Loki to stumble onto his knees, grip the edge of the toilet seat with one hand so strongly his knuckles must have turned white—Tony felt a pang of compassion for the poor plastic—and vomit violently.

Tony's gut shouldn't be able to function anymore, what with the way it twisted. A leaden weight settled in the pit of his stomach. Wide-eyed, he watched Loki dry-heave, and hold onto the toilet seat like it was his lifeline. His body trembled as he strained to breathe.

Tony felt his throat close up. His guts must have formed a modern art masterpiece by now. He'd swear the temperature had dropped about twenty degrees. And then Loki pushed his fingers down his throat, which ended in a new wave of vomit, and Tony thought he too was going to be sick.

He didn't want to watch. But he couldn't tear his gaze away. He _had_ to watch.

This was so. Wrong.

It took a short while for Loki's breathing to even out. He rose, for some reason reminding Tony of a moving shadow, flushed the toilet, and rinsed his mouth. Wiped his hands in Tony's towel and walked out towards the longue room.

For someone who'd just puked his guts out he moved surprisingly steadily and gracefully. Like nothing had happened at all. Tony had to hand it to him, the guy deserved to have his name listed in dictionary under the definition of resilient.

But the thing was something _had_ happened. And it made Tony very, very uneasy. Hell, that was the understatement of the year.

"Jarvis," he said weakly, "did you record Loki's outburst?"

"Yes, sir."

"Play it. Quietly."

His order was obeyed immediately, and Tony found himself trying to swallow the knot in his throat again and again. He could practically see the world shifting on its axis, turning more and more with each enraged (desperate), sharp-as-a-blade (broken) word.

… _just like everybody else, only interested in my powers, or my position, or my body…_

No. No, he wasn't.

He hadn't dared to admit it, but no matter how great Loki's body was, how interesting it would be to study his magic abilities, he longed for more. He wanted to peel layers away until he got under those very things, to the god's very core, to all the little infuriating quirks, buried, painful secrets, and precious moments placed aside for safekeeping. He wanted all of Loki, he needed all of Loki, but he was Tony fucking Stark, who could never be found in the same sentence as sentiment. He and sex, on the other hand …

Fuck. That blowjob thing … Either Loki's gag reflexes had needed a couple of minutes to kick in or …

… _only interested in my powers, or my position, or my body…_

Tony massaged his temples with his forefinger and middle finger.

Somebody had done something to Loki.

The thought was disturbing enough that Tony felt his bile rising. Loki was a _god_. He was strong. You couldn't just do things to gods. Like abuse them?

Fuck. That, that was it, wasn't it? The pieces fit. The way Loki had shied away from that apartment-owner guy, because of course it was sex the asshole had been talking about, how he'd tensed when Tony had tended to the wound on his hipbone, and then his throwing up, and shit, why the hell had the god given that blowjob if it did that to him?!

"This is fucked-up," Tony muttered, clenching and unclenching his fists in a futile attempt to release some steam. "So fucked-up."

He wanted to smash something. Destroy it. Tear it apart. Unfortunately, his phone was pretty much the only thing close enough to grab without moving, so he had to be satisfied with slamming his fist against the floor. It hurt like hell.

He did it again.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Getting up appeared to be much harder than he remembered.

Who'd done that to Loki? Was that what Asgard considered justice? Okay, put the guy in prison for a couple hundred years, but rape? No. that was too close to torture, and torture didn't sit well with Tony.

But.

There seemed to be an order to Loki's word vomit.

"Jarvis, play that again."

_It's always do this and do that …_

Mason, hair, Mjolnir. Tony had done his homework concerning Norse mythology. These things came in chronological order.

… _Loki, don't scream, you're hurting my ears …_

And that was a thing you just _didn't_ say. Tony's knuckles turned white (but if his phone couldn't handle it, it didn't deserve to be called Stark tech).

… _Loki, get the Tesseract …_

Tony swallowed.

And did it again.

His grip on the phone turned even stronger (if that was actually possible), and he began pacing. He felt sick; his brain couldn't leave the dots unconnected, and the picture that was beginning to appear was not what he'd wanted—or imagined—to see.

Screaming should have come after the Tesseract, not before it.

… _get the Tesseract …_

An order.

Somebody else must have wanted the Cube, somebody must have sent Loki after it; if the Trickster hadn't thought it an injustice, he wouldn't have brought it up.

The thought made Tony shiver in all the wrong ways. Had that somebody forced Loki into coming to Earth?

Now that he thought about it … Well, it wasn't like he hadn't before, but now that he did it again … He'd figured out Loki had been contained on the Hellicarrier only because it had been in his interest. It could have been a lack of conviction as much as a part of some ingenious plan. But he really could have put up more of a fight. The way he'd taken his time getting out of that Hulk-made crater, Tony'd thought the god hadn't even cared about his defeat.

Perhaps he'd been right.

His legs stopped moving abruptly.

Okay, maybe he was trying to find some deeper meaning in what had been nothing more than a hissy fit. Someone just needed to inform his gut about it.

He continued his pacing; standing still felt worse.

At least the rape-theory had to be true. People usually didn't throw up after giving blowjobs to the one they fucking loved. Except if Loki didn't love him anymore, but then why would he have come back?

Tony sighed heavily.

Damn. He shouldn't have tried to devour Loki's mouth (and proceed to so some other things that may or may not involve a bed). He ought to have listened. But no, the needs of Tony's dick took priority. Always had.

Stupid gods with perfect asses.

Okay, no. Irrelevant.

The image of Loki puking his guts out had burned itself into Tony's memory. And it was his fault. His. And fuck, what if Loki _had_ been forced to conquer Earth, and they'd beaten him to a plump, locked him in chains, and shipped to Asgard, and then what, he'd been punished for something he hadn't wanted to do in the first place, and it had nearly cost him his sanity, and this was so very, very wrong Tony wanted to scream, because once the thought had taken root in his mind he couldn't tear it out again, not when his gut agreed with it even as his brain fought the idea since this couldn't be real, Loki was a bad guy, Loki was …

Yeah, Loki was a bad guy. He'd admitted to trying to commit genocide. Tony was pretty sure that had been the god's own idea—the latter had mentioned it, after all, whereas he'd never even alluded the Chitauri invasion could have been anything else but what it had seemed at first sight. So yeah, attempted genocide equalled bad, screw the reasons. Actually, don't. With Tony's luck, the reasons could very well be persons and … Better not go there.

Still, blaming Loki for something Tony would never have heard about had the god not told him himself was so damn hard with the current situation slapping him to gain attention again and again.

On an impulse, Tony's fist collided with the wall.

He'd thought some things he'd said to Loki had been bad? Well, look at them now … And if Pepper hadn't called … Would he have slept with Loki?

No. Surely the god wouldn't let him. Though in was probably the intention that mattered.

"Jarvis," he muttered. "What have I done?"

"On what occasion, sir?"

"That was a rhetorical question."

"Pardon me, sir."

"Just shut up."

"Right away, sir."

Tony growled. He pressed his forehead against the wall, relishing the mild cold. An icy fire raged inside him, and he screwed his eyes shut to refrain himself from smashing the room. Instead he pressed his palms against the smooth surface as well and slowly sank to his knees, then sat down cross-legged. His forehead remained where it was. Perhaps banging his head against the wall would do him some good?

Damn.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to cry.

But what he really wanted was to curl up in a dark place and never crawl back out again.

* * *

A door opened somewhere behind. It sounded distant, miles away. In reality, it was only on the other side of the room, but Tony couldn't care less. Closing his eyes, he pressed his forehead against the wall.

Perhaps if he pretended he'd never heard anything, the intruder would leave. Perhaps if he banged his head hard enough, memories would go away, too.

The clicking of high heels penetrated some layer of fog in his mind. A woman's voice followed.

"Tony? Tony!?"

"Pepper," he choked out to the wall.

Instantly, hands covered his shoulders. "Tony, what happened?"

"I don't know." But he wanted to. He needed to, or else it was going to tear him apart.

"You don't know?"

Oh. She had something else in mind.

"No. I mean, yes. Yeah, I know. It's just … I'm not sure what it really was. What it meant."

Why was it so exhausting to speak in whole sentences?

"Are you okay? Would you look at me? Tony, look at me!"

He felt her pull at his shoulders, but she lacked strength. She merely brought him out of balance, forcing him to catch himself on his hands lest he crashed to the floor. His not having his face buried into the wall anymore had to be satisfying enough, though, because Pepper didn't attempt to move him again.

"No."

He felt like his guts had turned to ice and wrapped themselves around his heart, squeezing the life right out of it.

"No to what?"

"To okay. I'm not okay." He rubbed his face with the heel of his hand. The left side of his jaw ached. Badly. Pepper's eyes caught the movement.

"Is that a bruise?"

"Already?" How much time had passed anyway? "Don't worry, I deserved that. And the one before that. And the slap, although I really can't remember what I said at that time."

"What are you talking about?" Her eyes were wide. "Somebody punched you?"

"Yeah, but it's … It's not …" Tony shook his head. He felt lost. What if everything was actually exactly the opposite of what it seemed? "It's okay."

Pepper's hand gently squeezed his shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know."

Loki had said almost the same thing at Christmas, had he not? Another dagger was plunged into Tony's gut. Damn, how could he remember that when he hadn't managed to memorize Pepper's birthday in all those years?

"Why don't you go sit on the couch? I'll get you something to drink."

"No alcohol." Somebody had to write that in the Guinness Book of Record. "If I start drinking, I won't stop before coma."

"Okay. No alcohol. I'll get you water."

"I'm not dying, I can—Thank you."

She was good. She was so good. Reluctantly, he rose to his feet.

"You're good at fixing things." He dropped onto the nearest couch, and she placed the glass on the coffee table in front of him.

"If you say so."

"I did something. Or rather … something happened. I'm not sure it can be fixed."

"What is it?"

"I just messed up. I mean, circumstances speak to my defence, but … Is it time for the meeting yet?"

"Not just now." She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Look, I'm sorry my call was badly timed, but I couldn't know you'd decide to drag some … some _girl_ to bed in the middle of the day, and you really needn't have hung up on me like that."

Tony shook his head. "I had to."

Apparently, even Pepper's tolerance had its limits. "Because your cock couldn't wait for another minute? Are you really that … carnal?"

"You don't understand!" His throat was trying to close up, and he fought it as best he could. "It's not … God, Pepper, you should have seen that look! It was like … Like I ran a knife though his chest, and twisted it, and laughed in his face all the while and …" His voice broke.

"His?"

Tony shrugged. The fact Loki was a man was the least of his problems.

Pepper studied his face, eyes attentively narrowed.

"This … is somehow different, isn't it?" she asked carefully. "Not just the usual one-time-sex-and-then-I-never-want-to see-you-again thing?"

Tony sipped his water. His mind was sent back, and suddenly it was Loki sitting on a couch with a glass in his hands, and Tony asking questions …

"I …" There was nothing easy about the situation with Loki. "I want him. A lot. I acted on that …" Tony ran a hand through his hair. His stomach was doing something funny. "He overheard our conversation. Which I totally should have excepted. The thing is I didn't mean it. Damnit, like I could ever just forget him … But I hurt him, and … And I ... Pep, I think I might love him."

Her eyebrows formed two elegant arches, a small smile tugged on the corners of her lips. "Anthony Edward Stark. In love. Seriously in love. That's why you've been acting strange!"

"I wasn't acting strange."

"Noooo ..."

"Okay, okay." Tony raised his hands in surrender. "But I messed up. Not that he made it any easier, he's a total asshole, but I—don't you dare laugh at me—feel really lousy about it."

"I won't laugh at your love-problems, Tony, God knows I've had my share of those. Why don't you apologize to your guy?"

"He's not my guy." Tony placed the glass onto the coffee table. "He's not my anything. Things are complicated. And not your usual every-day complicated. That's on how-do-I-make-Bruce-not-hulk-out-anymore level. It's not just about his hearing me say a couple of careless words to you, there's so much more behind it … Things I don't even know, and if they're … I don't want them to be true, Pep."

He buried his face in his hands for a couple of moments. He took a deep breath. It did little to steady him.

"It can't be as bad as you think. Most things seem worse than they actually are."

"You would know about that," he said bitterly. "What with the times you were pulling me out."

"True. You better raise my salary."

"For twelve per cent?"

She smiled. "Tell you what, I'll find an argument for fifteen."

"Hm, good luck."

Pepper shifted, crossing he legs in the way only women could. Or perhaps Loki. He managed to do everything with elegance. Okay, maybe not vomiting, but who could blame him.

"Why don't you just call … What's his name? Tell him you're sorry?"

"No can do. Our meeting was a complete coincidence. He didn't want me to know he's in DC. I have a feeling he won't be found if he doesn't wish to be found. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to see me." Tony sighed heavily. That was probably how he'd feel if the Hulk sat on his shoulders—the weight was unbearable. "I should've told him I loved him. But wanting him was so much easier. I couldn't just blurt it out. I'm no good at love. Heck, I don't _do_ love. Why him of all the people? I never planned to fall for him! I never meant to even like him! But then he was there with his stupid gorgeous eyes, and arrogance and pride, and then he was just gone, and all I wanted was to see his smile!"

He rubbed his forehead with his palm.

"He did bad things. I did, too. But I knew he loved me, while he had no idea what I thought, because he wasn't even around when I realised …"

"It's not me you should be telling that to."

"Hm?"

Pepper caught his gaze.

"You love him, yes? You're sorry? Tell that to him."

Tony snorted against his will. "I can't contact him."

It really shouldn't surprise him that she looked at him as if he'd just told her he'd seen a shark fly by the window.

"You can't contact him? With all your technology? You guys managed to find Loki in Stuttgart."

Wasn't irony a lovely thing?

"Because he wasn't hiding. Trust me, my tech is kind of useless here." At least if he wanted Loki to remain a secret. Since Thor—if he knew at all—hadn't revealed his brother's presence on Earth, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to spill the beans.

"Whatever you say. You still haven't told me his name."

"I know."

That was all there was to be said. He didn't need excuses. Apparently, Pepper decided she didn't need to know after all, for she remained silent, and Tony was left to wonder how silence could feel like a tangible thing with its own weight sometimes.

"Phil called."

"Yeah?"

"SHIELD's planning to ask for your help. They want you to take a look at Loki's sceptre."

Tony's brow furrowed.

Alien technology.

A riddle.

A purpose.

_Bring it on._

* * *

A/N: I thought I should point out some things in case this seemed OOC. Let's just all remember that Loki actually sheds tears three times in Thor, so he is emotional. And he's willing to go to great lenghts to get what he wants. Even if he makes stupid decisions in the process.

Also, yes, I'm making him a victim, I won't even try to deny it, but that doesn't mean he did nothing because he himself wanted to. It's just that Tony can't read his thoughts, so he'll have to wait for Loki to tell him ...

And come on, people, I know you read this, so make me a very happy person and leave a review, yes? I'll tell Loki you've been good ... Or bad, it depends.


	12. Chapter 12: December 24

A/N: And ... new chapter. Loki is pleased with your reviews, you'll be granted special privileges when he rules the Earth ... No, really, thank you all for your reviews, they totally make my days. Floows and whatnot as well. ;)

Have a listen to Craig Armstrong's Wake Up in New York, it's beautiful. I was totally obsessed with it for a while.

Warning: that's supposed to be sweet.

* * *

**December 24****th**

_When I say I'm sorry  
Can you forgive me?  
When I say I'll always be there  
Will you believe?_

_~Chris Daughtry: Sorry_

"I'm sure you're all wondering why I called you here today."

Like SHIELD had called him. Put the sceptre in front of him and the labs at his disposal. It had taken Fury long enough to swallow his pride and admit they were stranded at a certain point. Tony would have resented him the long wait if he hadn't had his head full of other things. As it was, he'd rolled his sleeves (in both senses), buried himself in work, forgotten the line between nights and days, forgotten all about food, showers, and the world. His mind had been filled with data, with pulsating energy. The sceptre wasn't an energy source like the Tesseract, but it was connected with the cube, with energy. Almost like it had the power to bend it …

"I don't do business on Christmas, never had. I even stopped believing in Christmas for a very long while."

Tony shifted his weight from one foot to another.

"See, I'm aware you have families waiting at home. I'll try to be quick here, so you can spend the rest of the day with them, or friends, or whomever you hold dear, and, by all means, give them all a second chance.

"I said no business on Christmas. I mean that. This is not about arc reactors. It's not about technology, my company, clean energy, research, or cars, or drinks, or even my suit. Just me. And not the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Not even Iron Man. Just Tony Stark.

"I mean, of course it's connected to everything, because there's no me without … Ee, not the point."

He looked over the sea of faces staring up at him, soaking in his words. A camera flashed.

"This isn't some genius idea of mine. It's my only idea."

"_A press conference?"_

"_Yes."_

"_I still don't believe there's no other way. Not knowing a phone number has never been an obstacle for you."_

"_Look, I want to keep this private."_

"_By organising a press conference?"_

"_Yes."_

"_That's counterintuitive."_

A month ago, he couldn't have imagined standing here, about to do what he'd decided to do.

"_No. It'll work. There's a chance he'll hear about it. There's a chance he might actually believe me. Lying to a single person is one thing, but if I get out there and talk about feelings …"_

"_Tony, what did you do?"_

"_I … took advantage of the situation."_

"_That doesn't explain anything."_

"_I know, Pep. I'm sorry."_

"I owe apologies to many people for many, many things, and then some more. And I owe them an extra apology, because I don't even remember the things I should apologize for, or the people. So sue me."

He made a dramatic gesture with his hand, staring at the empty podium. He had no cards, no papers to read from; it wasn't his thing. Nobody needed to know he _had_ written the speech and read it again and again until he could tell it backwards. Not word for word, not like that. Just the contents; it was what really mattered, after all.

"Actually, don't do it. I'd win. Awesome lawyers and such, though even they can't apologize for me. Well, they could, but the whole thing would have no meaning then. So I'm here to do it myself. I'm sorry for the shit I've done. And I pray to every god that might be willing to listen that you're hearing this."

His hands closed around the edge of the podium.

"_I'm sorry."_

"_What for?"_

"_I broke it. I'm sorry."_

"This is hard. This is so damn hard. And a sorry won't magically make things whole again. I don't think there are words big enough to convey the message. Or if there are, I haven't found them yet. But I am sorry. I am so very sorry for what I did, what I made you do. And if—"

He inhaled sharply. "Last time … If the things you said meant what I think they meant … It made me want to curl up in some dark hole."

Inwardly, he shuddered.

"See, I'm trying to understand things. Why you love me. If you do still love me, but I think you do, because if all I said didn't drive you away … I mean, I spent _hours_ listening to myself tearing you down—"

"_I'm not … completely sane."_

"_Mhm. I knew that. So, the deal with the blackouts?"_

"—being smart, and not listening. I have no idea what you'd seen in me, still less when you'd had the time to see whatever it was you'd seen. And let's not get started on why the hell you kept loving me. Stubborn to a fault as always. Not that I should be pointing fingers. I can hardly apologize if I do."

Tony forced a smile to appear on his face. Something in his chest trembled. Gazes bored holes through him.

The whole world could see this, hear this. Standing here naked couldn't make him feel more exposed. But he needed Loki to hear it, and if that was what it took, then so be it.

He needed Loki to believe.

He needed Loki.

"Anyway. I watched the footages. If Pepper'd know how much time I spent for it, she'd have accused me of flirting with blindness. And now she knows. If she steals my car keys, I'm blaming it on you, because damn. All those hours I listened to you speak, I watched you act, and I'd bet my suits I got to know parts of you the world has no idea about. Yeah, you're an ass, you're a tease, and your pride is as bad as mine …"

"_Why him of all the people? I never planned to fall for him! I never meant to even like him! But then he was there with his stupid gorgeous eyes, and arrogance and pride, and then he was just gone, and all I wanted was to see his smile!"_

"… But you're so much more than that. Clever. Witty …"

"_Aren't you fond of sarcasm?"_

"_Pot, meet kettle. Isn't that what you mortals would say?"_

"… Sarcastic, and I'm a fan of sarcastic. Sometimes you even remembered humour existed, though I admit the circumstances weren't exactly ideal for joking. Damnit, you can actually banter with me! True, you can be cold as ice, but you _can_ be kind and you care, perhaps too much and where you don't have to …"

"_But really, why did you pick up the kitties?"_

"_I told you. They were left to die."_

"_Look, I get it. You just don't strike me as the type to save kitties. They're just … kitties. No offense here, I cherish my life despite what it looks like."_

"_Of course they're just kitties! Their deaths would mean nothing to humanity. But like this, there's a chance they might become something of a meaning to somebody."_

"I guess I'm trying to say you proved me people are wrong about you. And I proved they are right when they say I'm an arrogant ass who can't keep his mouth shut and always has to have things go his way. Feel free to disagree," he added quickly, adding his trademark grin.

Briefly, he wondered what people thought. All those faces turned towards him, opened mouths, closed mouths, the different arches of eyebrows. And Pepper, his sweet Pepper, what was going through her head now? Was she proud he finally dared to admit he had feelings? Was the contemplation whether he would have done anything like that for her making her sad?

Tony exhaled and closed his eyes. His brain came up with an image of Loki, skin pale, the ends of his hair curling ever so slightly, with _that_ look in his eyes. There were so many things he wanted to talk about. So many memories swirling in his mind at the same time. So many complications, so many flaws and quirks he didn't give a damn about.

"_I am not his brother!"_

"_Right … Because … you're blue."_

"_Yes! Yes, you incompetent mortal, because he is the future king of Asgard, and I'm a frost giant!"_

Beautiful blue.

"_You're one very messed-up god, has anyone ever told you this before?"_

"_I don't need to be told."_

Beautiful mess.

"_I'm losing my mind, Stark. I have flashbacks. Blackouts. I see things that don't exist, I can't think anymore. It's getting worse."_

Damn.

"I'm sorry. I really am. If you don't ever want to see me again, that's fine. I won't be searching for you. But I …"

"_Yeah. It's sort of a tradition. See, there's this religion here … One of many, actually, but the most common around here. Well, the God's son was born on Christmas to die later and save humanity from sin."_

"_He … did not do a very good job then."_

"_Hey, I'm not an expert. All this religion stuff, it's another thing on the Tony-Stark-does-not-do list. But it's not about people not sinning anymore, it's supposed to be about forgiveness."_

"I'm not asking you to forgive me. Okay, yeah, I am. It's up to you, though. Your choice. If you do wish to come back, you know where to find me. I'd like to know the truth."

"_I guess it didn't work out? You got angry then and decided to try your luck on Earth?"_

"_Don't speak of this as if you have any idea!"_

"Because I have an idea now."

"_This is … It's … I never planned for this to happen."_

"_You had to know they'd punish you."_

"_Not that. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I thought … I thought it would be over, but it was just … A beginning. I hate this …"_

"Which I don't like. Well, perhaps one bit. Maybe two. Still, I hate it.

"It's not just about that, either. I really, really want to see you again. You … You messed me up. Bad. I started reading Shakespeare because of you. I can _quote_ Shakespeare because of you."

Tony straightened and coughed dramatically.

"_Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either in heaven or in hell._* See? I never read that kind of stuff before, this one's totally on you."

He imagined Loki listening, head cocked just the slightest and one eyebrow raised a little, the way he'd seen him express soundless questions or disbelief or whatnot.

"Okay, no. No babbling. I've been thinking … A lot. About last Christmas. Whatever it was with that light … Was it the colour? Or the fact I gave it to you? I still don't know. But I do owe you a present. You left me one last year. I didn't give you anything. So if you …"

He swallowed.

"If you can, if you're willing, please come back. I'll try to make it up to you, I'll try to be whatever you need, I'll try not to fuck things up again, because …"

He couldn't. There was a knot in his throat and he couldn't.

He _had_ to.

" … I love you, too."

There may or may not have been a quiet collective 'awww'. Tony felt a scorching sensation somewhere behind his eyes.

"Yeah. I do. At some point in this crazy mess, I fell in love with you. That's it." He gazed upon the crowd. "I will not be answering questions."

And of course the moment he said that was the one when everybody decided they wanted to know this or that or something else. He wasn't about to reply. Without sparing them another look, he left the podium and the room. Halfway down the corridor he noticed his legs were trembling. The next thing he noticed was Pepper standing by a doorframe, giving him an encouraging smile.

"I can't believe I just did that," he said. Or tried to say; it came out no louder than a whisper.

"I can't believe you did, either." She put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

He nodded. "Let's go home."

Pepper kept her eyes on his for another second before she called Happy and told him to bring the car around (and quite possibly having to fight his way through a crowd of crazy journalists). Tony stuffed his hands in his pockets, studying a faint stain on the plastic floor. He didn't feel any better than before. Baring his soul had left him vulnerable and talking hadn't eased the burden of yearning and guilt. Allowing scenes of the past resurface had made his whole mind feel like a big sore wound. The only improvement was he could say he'd tried. He'd dared to be honest. He'd stopped thinking about himself at least a bit; if Loki came back—and even if he didn't but still heard the speech and maybe felt a bit better—exposing his heart was totally worth it.

"Tony?"

He looked up again. "Hm?"

"What was that thing you brought up?"

Why did he feel like he'd just been forced to sit through Fury's endless debriefing then run over by a tank?

"I brought up many things."

"The one you want to know about. It has to do with your messing up, right?"

"Of course it does. Yet … it doesn't." When they'd fought Loki, no one had any idea there might be more to it. Tony had done what was right, period. He wasn't completely sure about his assumption, either. But the blowjob, that was …

"Please, don't ask about it," he murmured.

"Tony?" Pepper leaned against the wall next to him. "What's wrong?"

"There's something I'm missing, something I can't quite place. It must be important, but I can't see it." Where had his voice disappeared to? "He won't come back."

"How can you know that? What you did was incredibly … It was right. And if your guy doesn't accept that kind of apology … Even _I_ would forgive you if you did something like that for me."

Tony offered a sour half-smile. "It's not just about forgiveness. Sometimes things are just ... broken. Too broken to be fixed."

Pepper sighed. "I wish you'd talk to me. You don't need to do everything alone."

Tony didn't answer. Pepper had brought the subject up before. There was nothing more he could do but reassure her he did trust her. That it had nothing to do with the lack of the latter.

"It was the cats, wasn't it? That present?"

A short nod.

"He saved them, Pep. He saved their lives, and everybody saw me as the hero. I'm starting to think that's the story of his life."

Pepper just looked at him for a while. Then she put an arm around his shoulders.

"Come on. Let's go home."

Their footsteps echoed softly down the corridor.

* * *

A/N: *Shakespeare: Henry V. (2.3.7)

Now, if I were you, I'd try to make sure Loki is merciful to me ... ^^


	13. Chapter 13: January 15

A/N: Hey guys! (Yeah, I'm in a good mood, holidays do that). Thanks a lot for comments, faves, and alerts, they always make me totally happy.

As for the music: Action part (you'll know it when you see it): Two Steps from Hell—Birth of a Hero; Two Steps from Hell—Ocean

Part III: Samuel Barber—Adagio for Strings (works for last part, too)

Last part: Tor Jaran Apold—Norwegian Folk Song; Uragiri wa Boku no Namao wo Shitteiru—Hakanaku Tsuyoku Tattoi Mono

Also, I have no clue whatsoever about energy/physics. And comic!verse. Meaning I improvised.

See the end for more notes.

* * *

**January 15****th**

_See the moon in his eyes and the lost paradise  
It's weighing him down as he stumbles around...  
Lonely road  
Leaving burn marks from the fire  
Rusty soul  
From the spikes that nailed him down_

_~Jorn: Man of the Dark_

Tony's fingers tapped a vaguely familiar rhythm on the steering wheel. Flying would be so much easier. Unfortunately, Steve's motor had to have broken down just a day ago, and SHIELD couldn't send a car for him. No, it had to be Tony who picked him up. So he waited impatiently for the other man to get his ass down from his flat and into the car.

The door opened. Steve gave him a quick smile before he slipped inside. "Hi."

"Capsicle." Tony slammed his foot down on the pedal. "How's getting integrated in the present working?"

"It's all right."

Tony hummed something unintelligible. He hadn't seen Steve for a while. He hadn't seen _anyone_ save Pepper and Happy for a while. The press had gone crazy after his speech. They'd been practically begging on their knees to get some special info out of Tony. Speculations had been wild, still were. Who was Tony's mysterious lover? Had he been seen with her in the past? What had happened between them? Could it be Pepper again?

They were never going to guess, but Tony refused to speak with them anyway. For the first time in his life, he couldn't bear listening to questions thrown at him wherever he went, and so he'd spent most of the time inside, wishing SHIELD would let him take the sceptre to Malibu.

Every morning, he'd wake up and ask Jarvis if perhaps Loki had shown up at night, if by some chance Jarvis had failed to awaken him. With every 'no' something in his heart shattered a bit more. With every day, hope became harder to cling to.

With every breath, pain increased.

"I heard about your press conference."

"Yeah." Tony's fingers squeezed the steering wheel. "I'm sure you did. It's been hard to miss."

Steve took a breath, undoubtedly to ask something, but the billionaire beat him to it,

"Don't start."

Steve's mouth closed. A tense silence settled over them, but Tony didn't give a damn. A countdown of how many more seconds until highway started in his head. One more turn.

There.

They still hadn't said anything.

He stepped on the pedal even harder.

"You've crossed the speed limit."

"What about it?"

"Laws exist for reasons."

"No. Laws exist to be broken."

Steve sighed. "I guess it's good to see you're still you."

"What, because if I admit I have feelings I'm suddenly not Tony Stark anymore?" It came out more aggressive than intended, but the world's attitude was annoying. It was not the usual look-that-celebrity's-in-love story. It was Tony-Stark-is-in-love. And apparently, his ability to love was such a big surprise for all of them. Because guys who would sacrifice themselves to send a nuke into space and save the entire Island of Manhattan's population and then some more didn't seem like the kind of people with feelings.

Fuck whatever he'd said—people were wrong about him, too.

"Of course you are," Steve hurried. "What's the situation with SHIELD?"

"The sceptre's radiation increased."

"Why do they want me?"

"Let's take a moment to remember what happened last time alien technology started acting all weird."

Tony briefly glanced at Steve, seeing the supersoldier's eyebrows arch.

"You think Loki is behind this?"

No. Loki couldn't use magic.

"Possibly, but unlikely. I've been working on the sceptre for a month. It's not like the Tesseract. Not an energy source, although there are certain connections with the Cube."

"Without energy, there is no portal?"

"Excellent deducting, Cap."

Steve frowned. "Then why the rush?"

"Because"—Tony's frown mirrored his—"it's alien technology, and I don't trust it one bit."

Because if it didn't have anything to do with Loki …

He pulled off the highway. They were well out of the city by now. Steve was busy observing their surroundings. Tony didn't care anymore; he'd seen them enough times. Besides, speeding kind of required keeping his eyes on the road, so he ignored everything else until he slammed his foot down on the brake and brought the car to a stop in front of the official entrance of the SHIELD complex disguised as a second-rate factory. It would have been easier to hide in a city, but more buildings around meant more things that could potentially be blown up. The sceptre easily qualified as a could-easily-cause-the-said-blow-up object.

The security guard (a new one this time) checked Tony's pass, then let them through. The road led underground to a so-like-SHIELD parking lot.

They barely managed to get out of the car before Clint appeared, offering a tense smile in lieu of a greeting.

"Took you long enough. Fury's lived up to his name."

"I'm pretty sure I broke every speed limit on the way. Not my fault he couldn't send one of his spandex-guys to get Steve." Tony took his suitcase-shaped suit out of the trunk.

"I love your sense of humour, but Fury wants you there at once." Clint waved at them to follow and led the way. Not that Tony needed to be shown where to go. "Something's definitely wrong."

"So, Fury gets mad when he's worried?"

"Tony," Steve implored.

"And you get all righteousness-with-narrowed-eyes."

The billionaire's face darkened. Hell, _he_ was worried. As much as he hated Fury's fury (pun absolutely intended) and loved to fuel it even further, it wasn't on top of his priority list right now.

There was something sinister about the whole affair. Because if not Loki, then _who_?

Fury's trademark scowl was the only greeting they got. It barely held Tony's attention for half a second; he was striding across the room to where the sceptre lay before anyone even had the time to open their mouth. And it didn't look good. Forget scientists buzzing around, the sceptre had a radiant glow to it, a pulsating bright blue globe that extended and contracted like a living thing.

Something in Tony's gut tightened.

"Get me the readings!" he barked at nobody in particular; _someone _would surely obey.

"Stark," Fury spoke at last, "are you actually taking this seriously?"

Tony would have rolled his eyes if—no. He did roll them. "After all this time, you should know I love appearing out of nowhere and stealing the show."

He leaned towards the reading one of the scientists—Josh? Was he Josh?—had opened for him. His frown deepened. The sceptre's radiation was much too strong. Some kind of energy connection to _something_ seemed to be forming, yet it was still to undefined to be followed. Tony would plead for it to remain that way if the universe actually cared for his opinion.

"What's going on?" Steve, of course.

"Looks like a connection of a kind is forming."

"To what?"

"Ah, dear captain Hook, I think we're unlucky enough to find out eventually. It has to be some sort of energy source, though."

Clint made a step forward. "Perhaps we should ask Thor about it, sir?"

Tony sharply turned towards him. "Thor's here?"

Well, it made sense. Alien technology, alien gods.

A heavy hammer …

Fury nodded once. Tony did the same. "I want him close. Have you alerted Bruce yet?"

"I have men waiting for the order."

Fury gave him a weird look, but Tony ignored it. He had the right to be worried. They all had.

"I doubt that will help. Remember last time? You didn't get an advance warning with the precise time and description of what was to happen. You call Banner now, and he won't be here faster than in a couple of hours, no matter what quinjet you use. Now, how far was the Tesseract after a few hours within Loki's arrival?"

Fury glowered but said nothing. Tony's attention drifted back to the holographic screens. Graphs and numbers popped up at the commands of his fingers.

"You think that's what's going to happen? A portal?" Steve asked. "Didn't you say energy is necessary for that?"

"I don't know what will happen." And he didn't like it one bit. "But _somebody_ is doing _something_ to it. Since the sceptre is no aesir technology, I guess that somebody is whoever made it, probably our destruction-friendly lizards from space."

"The Chitauri," Thor's deep voice offered from somewhere behind. The god wore his armour sans the cape. Natasha stood beside him in that deliciously tight outfit (Tony still didn't know how she managed to hide weapons under it).

"Yes."

A certain cold was spreading through Tony's stomach. If he'd interpreted Loki's words right, there was something the god feared. Tony would live a perfectly happy life if he never got to meet that thing (person/creature/whatever). Loki was powerful. Whoever managed to scare _him_ …

Tony probably had the right to be a little afraid.

"So, what do we do?"

Tony met Natasha's gaze. He barely noticed everyone suddenly wasn't looking at Fury or Steve for leadership, but at him.

"We wait," he said gravely.

* * *

That had to be the longest hour in Tony's whole life. The tension was so thick he'd only need to hear a convincing argument why it was actually a living thing bent on destroying his nerves, and he'd believe it without second thoughts (especially if it were Loki who said so). He kept rushing up and down the lab, keeping an eye on the radiation levels and all the other data, trying to bring it down somehow but to no avail, and to pinpoint the place to where the energy connection was leading.

Fury stood close by as a silent dark shadow, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze watchful as ever. That frown had to be a permanently attached expression by now. Natasha and Clint occupied two chairs by the only table. They were conversing silently, contrary to Thor and Steve who were staring in space. The demigod's fingers were absentmindedly closing around thin air as if wanting to take hold of his hammer.

"I found the place."

Five pairs (well, four and a half) of eyes were on Tony immediately.

"About six miles east from the compound, close to the forest. That's where the current leads."

For a while, there was silence. Then Fury assumed the leadership again.

"Suit up. I want you in the garage in ten minutes."

They reacted almost as one, surprising even themselves—or at least Tony. For once Fury's words were the exact same thing he thought. He picked up his suitcase-suit; it was easier to walk as he was, so he made his way to the garage immediately. Only then did he place his suitcase down beside his feet and activated it. The armour unfolded, enclosing his legs, his torso and arms, his head. The faceplate remained open.

Mark IX, the newest addition to his collection. The first suit with nuclear arc-reactor weapons. The excitement about having a chance to try them out in praxis should be a lot stronger than it was.

Natasha and Clint were the first to appear; home field advantage or so. The Widow was seriousness incarnated. Clint, though, kept glancing at Tony as if something was bothering him too much to let him stand still.

"What is it?" Tony took the initiative.

"That press conference …"

"Don't." Something icy hovered in his voice. "That's my business."

Clearly not satisfied, Clint sighed but nodded.

"Is it Pepper?"

"What?"

Of course Natasha would know just the right question to ask to unnerve him. "No, it isn't Pepper."

"What isn't Lady Pepper?"

"Nothing, Goldilocks."

Thor stared at him a little. "You are talking about your grand speech, Man of Iron?"

Tony told him no at the same time as Clint enthusiastically affirmed it. Tony shot him a glare.

"I'll dye your arrows pink for that."

But the archer only grinned as Thor decided to pat Tony's shoulder.

"It was very noble of you."

"Mm." Tony offered him a fake grin that only lasted half a second. What would Thor say if he knew Tony had been talking to his brother? That he'd been given a blowjob by the said brother? Oh god …

His eyes strayed to the giant hammer in the blonde's hand. Tony's head, meet Mjolnir.

He swallowed.

The sound of footfall reached his ears, and he honestly couldn't recall another occasion when he'd been so happy to see Steve. (He might have been, but memory was a curious thing with sadistic tendencies that always offered just the right scenes to make pain blossom behind his breastbone.)

"All right, we're all here, now let's go, chop-chop. Jarvis will send you the coordinates, I'll see you there."

Tony's faceplate closed. Without sparing them another look, he took off, manoeuvring his way through the underground facilities until he was finally outside, and shot in the air, up, up, up and away, away from questions and scrutinizing gazes, from guilt, from pain, from fear, and people, and the world, and everything else.

Towards the unknown and more fear and more pain.

He pierced the lowest layer of clouds (sometimes he still dared to nurture foolish hope that perhaps he'd get tangled in solid cotton mass) and dived back into them. Flying meant freedom, always had, yet for the first time he found himself wondering what that freedom was really worth. He couldn't get away from himself. His suit held the world at bay, but it firmly enclosed his essence within.

Clouds were lucky, lazily drifting away with no thought to pester them day and night.

"Stark? Where are you?" Steve's voice buzzed through the communication line.

"Oh, just stopped for burgers. Give me a sec."

Had he wasted so much time up here?

Glancing at the coordinates, he descended. Two SHIELD vans were parked perhaps hundred, two hundred feet away from the first leaves of undergrowth. His teammates stood nearby. More importantly—metallic blue light shimmered somewhere on the level of their heads.

"Jarvis, why don't you find me some Chinese curses I could use, I'm growing rather bored of the English ones. Or better, Japanese. They always sound like they're barking anyway."

"And that is just a refined way of saying this looks bad?" Clint jabbed him when Tony landed.

"Works pretty well." The inventor would have shrugged if not for the suit. "And, Jarv, not everyone has to hear that kind of things."

"Damn right we don't, Stark," barked Fury. "What's the situation?"

Before anyone could speak, though, she shimmering light suddenly expanded with a blinding flash. Tony's screwed his eyes shut instinctively. When he opened them again, he found himself staring at a gaping hole framed with blue fire, and in it …

… The vast nothingness of the universe, the stuff of his nightmares, serving a background coulisse for a throng of Chitauri.

Her heard Clint curse and Thor growl, and somehow he knew they were all just searching for Loki, because of course he was bound to appear any moment now, of course he would want to bask in glory as the Chitauri trampled this group of pathetic humans—the first space lizards were already marching (crawling?) towards them, it had to be any moment now—and Tony could have laughed; what if Loki had actually gone back to him little army, but no, he had no magic, he couldn't be behind this, couldn't be the reason—what if the Chitauri did all that to him, then surely Loki wouldn't want to be anywhere near—

"Stop!"

What the—

_What?_

No skill of denial could change the fact that that was _Loki's_ voice. Or that Tony's heart dropped at the sound of it and must have hit the dirty ground.

He didn't want to turn around. But it was Loki, and fuck, every single fibre of Tony's body longed to see him again, needed it like he needed oxygen (perhaps more, it was hard to tell at times like this). So he gave in to the urge, and then he didn't know what to do anymore.

Loki was slowly but steadily walking towards them from the directing of the wood. He wore the same coat and boots as the last time. His hands were hidden inside his pockets.

Clint growled something among the lines of I'll kill the fucker, Thor gasped "brother!", Natasha's poker face probably remained in place, and Steve's eyes surely narrowed. Tony was glad his face was safely hidden behind a metal plate.

Not that anybody looked at him. The Avengers had eyes only for Loki, even if the demigod didn't so much as spare them a single look; his gaze remained fixed on the Chitauri.

"I want to speak with your leader," he ordered, clearly expecting his words to be followed if the tone of his voice was anything to go by, but nobody moved.

"Now!" Loki shouted. A rustle spread through the army. The Chitauri stopped advancing. Their ranks parted, creating an aisle in between. Languidly, a large figure came forward. The air around it reeked of death and intimidation. The creature's skin was purplish, face disproportional, eyes cold and cruel.

"Godling," it said. Its voice fit perfectly to the rest of its appearance.

Loki's face split into a grin.

"Thanos. Come to level Midgard?"

"If need be."

"If need be in the process." Loki's eyebrows arched in mock surprise. "Amusing. But I've got a better idea. Why don't we go someplace else? A little more … advanced? I'm sure you can see the endless possibilities of entertainment."

"What's going on?" Steve voiced Tony's thoughts.

"I don't know, but I want to send arrows through their heads."

"Hold your fire, Clint. We don't know what's happening."

Yes. Yes, exactly. What was Loki doing? Those words, they weren't just pleasantries exchanged between two villains that met again to go and make their notorious plans.

"Oh, very much." The alien smiled wickedly.

"So good to hear we agree. Shall we?"

That grin stretched even further. "I would call you noble, little godling, if I didn't know any better." He held out his arm, and Loki laughed.

The sound sent shivers down Tony's spine.

Wrong.

It was all wrong.

Loki walked towards the space army, back perfectly straight, hands still in his pockets. His shoulders were squared, neck-muscles tensed.

_Wrong._

Thanos was still grinning, and he stretched his arm out a bit more, waiting for the god to close the distance so he could place it on his shoulder and embrace him like a friend …

Shibari* was a simple design compared to what Tony's guts tied themselves in. Something dreadfully cold was spreading through him.

Only a few feet away from the alien, Loki turned his head a little, just enough to gaze across his shoulder and directly into Tony's eyes as if there was no metal covering his face at all, as if he could see through it, and through his eyes to the very core of man's soul.

_Promise me!_

Tony's breath caught. His mind turned into a long litany of _no no no no no no nonononono!_

He couldn't think.

Damn, he didn't have time to think.

Thanos's arm came to rest around Loki's shoulders. They turned and headed towards the portal in what seemed like slow-motion to Tony.

The blast from his repulsors when he fired was very fast, though. It hit Thanos's shoulder, causing him to stagger. Loki stumbled to his knees in the process.

Stave tried to say something, but Tony shouted over him.

"Okay, let's get Loki away from them! I want those space lizards on the other side of the portal, there's something I want to send with them! Move, people, move!"

Thanos reached for Loki, but Tony fired again, hitting his target square in the face. The alien was thrown back, but he suffered no major damage. A growl of rage tore free of his throat. Chitauri swarmed forwards, lighting cut the sky in half. Tony dived before Thanos could make another attempt at Loki, roughly grabbed the latter around the waist, and flew towards the vans with full speed. The landing beside the first vehicle was ungraceful, but he couldn't care less.

"Stark," Loki rasped.

"Jarvis, turn the coms off."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay." He held Loki by the shoulders. The god was shaking slightly. "How do I close the portal?"

"It won't help. He'll just open another one, he—"

"How do I close the portal?"

Loki blinked, eyes a bit wide. "The sceptre can manipulate energy. But Thanos—"

"I'll blast him away."

"_How?_"

"That thing I threw into space? I've made it better." Tony destroyed the two nearest Chitauri. "Don't get killed." He squeezed Loki's shoulders. A moment later, he joined Thor in the air again.

"Coms on. Fury?"

"Yes, Stark?"

"I need the sceptre."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"When have I not been?" Small missiles flew out of his armour. He barely avoided an energy ball coming from Thanos's direction. Not wasting time, he unleashed the uni-beam at him.

"I mean it, though. That thing can manipulate energy. We closed the portal with it last time. It has to work now as well." Because if it didn't …

No. He wouldn't go there.

"Are you sure?"

Hell, no, he wasn't. "Yes! Now, Fury, I need it now!"

It didn't help that Thanos was on his feet again, ready to engage in a battle with Thor, who'd suddenly appeared in front of him. Clint, Natasha, and Steve were fighting furiously, having acquired the enemy's weapons since bullets and arrows quickly got all used up. How Tony wished Bruce was there …

Loki was fighting too. His back turned to the car, he was using what appeared to be knives in combination with a Chitauri weapon and doing an excellent job. If the Avengers noticed, they didn't comment. Tony understood perfectly well; they were too busy. Trained fighters or not, their disadvantage was painfully obvious.

Time to try something new.

"Jarvis, prepare Missile S." Then he shouted through the com, "Thor, get away from that freak."

And he was so happy the Big Blonde #1 didn't hesitate to obey. One more second, and he fired.

Instincts forced his eyelids down.

The force of explosion threw him backwards.

The first thing he saw through the dust were flames, lapping at those half-machine corpses. Thanos lay in the middle of them, clearly alive, but there was blood, and god was Tony relieved. Anything that would bleed could be killed. The situation may not be hopeless after all.

"Stark," rasped Big Blonde #2, "what in the world did you do?"

Steve was crouched on the ground, surrounded by a group of Chitauri that were down as well. Not dead, though, if the fact the Captain snapped the nearest one's neck was anything to go by. Clint and Natasha were groaning but slowly rising to their feet. Loki's back was pressed against the van's door. A trickle of blood had drawn a line over his cheekbone, but when Tony turned his way, the corner of his mouth jerked up just the slightest and he gave a barely visible nod.

"I thought a change of tactics was in order."

"Next time, give us a fucking warning!" Clit glared daggers at him. "What was that anyway?"

"Just a little invention of mine. Fury, where's the sceptre?"

"Should be there any moment. Reinforcement is on its way. What _did_ you do?"

"Not now, Cyclops. Guys, I want these zombies on the other side of the portal."

"These what?" Thor asked.

"Never mind. Just do it!"

The time for talking had passed; Thanos was standing, raw fury swirling in his eyes, and the Chitauri were getting there. Tony fired another Missile S, this one into the portal to prevent the arrival of new forces.

Clint groaned with pain. Natasha uttered something in Russian that sounded suspiciously like a curse. Steve was panting. Thor bellowed and threw himself at Thanos anew, although he had to be bleeding from somewhere.

Loki didn't have an earpiece. Constantly keeping an eye on him was a luxury Tony couldn't afford right now. He tried, he really did, but his eyes were needed elsewhere, too. Damn, if Loki happened to die, if Tony were to lose him now that he was here again …

The thought hurt too much, so he took that pain and turned it to rage because Thanos had abused Loki and would torture him to the point of insanity, and Tony suddenly wanted to rip him apart with his bare hands for it, wanted—

"Stark, the sceptre."

A van pulled to a stop some distance away. There were more vehicles following it, approaching the fighting scene. Using full speed, he flew to the car just as Clint's voice reached him.

"Why the fuck is Loki fighting against the Chitauri?"

"Brother! He's—arhghhh!"

"Thor!"

The Thunderer was thrown away, seemingly bleeding some more, and Tony fired his uni-beam at Thanos.

"How about the win-first-ask-later approach? We need all the help we can get." Tony nearly ripped the sceptre out of the SHIELD agent's hands. "Everyone, forget the snails, we _have_ to get Thanos through the portal."

"Can't you just kill him here?" Clint.

"And blow half the Earth away?" So what if Tony was screaming? The way Thanos's eyes narrowed when he noticed the sceptre sent shivers down the man's spine. "I have a bloody arc reactor nuke here, okay?"

After that, everything was a blur of adrenaline. Tony used two more Missiles S—all he'd had—there was screaming, cursing, panting, and groaning, SHIELD agents rushing to aid (how Thor yelled at them when they tried attacking Loki; Tony was afraid his ears might never completely recover but he was glad, so glad for the shouting anyway), and somehow, there was progress.

Troublesome, that Tony had no idea how to actually use the sceptre to close the damn thing of a portal. That thought remained in the background; he just wanted to get rid of Thanos, kill him as soon as possible, because the creature was resilient, much stronger than he had any right to be, and Tony was _afraid_.

They didn't have plan B.

Or time to waste.

"Prepare XL, Jarvis." Why was his heart hammering against his ribcage so furiously?

He landed. Metal plates on his shoulder parted to allow the missile through. Thanos had been pushed over the line, just a little, just enough. Tony should fire.

He only had to say one word.

Yet his lips remained still.

If he didn't manage to close the portal (how did one _do_ that?!), the consequences would be catastrophic. Worse than catastrophic (his death not included). Wasn't there another way to kill the guy?

But he _had_ to fire.

A figure slipped to his side. The sceptre was yanked out of his grip. "Do it."

He didn't hesitate anymore. Couldn't.

"Fire!"

The missile whooshed through the air, hitting Thanos straight in the chest, knocking him back, and Loki was suddenly in front of Tony, feet firmly planted on the ground with the sceptre in his hands (like that gun, the way he waited, the way he stood in front of Clint like he had no doubt whatsoever about the outcome).

It began with blinding light—the explosion somewhere in a foreign universe far away but still too close, the blue flames sewing the rip in space back together, the one last flash of light when there was nothing but a small blue speck left, and even that was disappearing—and ended with a scream.

* * *

The nanosecond in which Tony had felt like he'd discovered oxygen anew had passed.

Loki's hands flew to his head, the sceptre rolled over the ground, a shriek tore free of the god's throat. Then he was on his knees, then his side, and then silent and still.

Thor's roar deafened Tony's screaming thoughts.

"Brother!"

Mjolnir dug into the ground where it fell. Thor was at Loki's side before Tony could even blink, cradling his brother's limp form, and all Tony could think of was that _he_ should be the one holding the Trickster, that was _his_ place, _his_ Loki, and _what the hell had happened_?!

"Боже мой,**" Natasha muttered, startling Tony out of his thoughts. Slowly, he turned.

The Chitauri were everywhere. The missile must have destroyed their power source, whatever it was, for what littered the ground were lifeless bodies. His team stood among them and the rest of the SHIELD agents, dirty and bloody, breathing heavily (the rhythm of their breaths filled Tony's ears). Natasha was cradling her right wrist, Clint clutching his thigh. Half of Steve's face was covered with blood. Thor seemed to have a large wound on his leg, but it was hard to tell where exactly with Loki lying over his knees as he was.

Tony himself felt like he could drop where he stood and sleep for three weeks together.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

Nobody replied. Without an order they all began walking (limping) towards the two gods. Except for Tony, who was already right there and couldn't tear his eyes away from Loki. The god's chest was slowly rising and falling. Black strands were scattered over his face until Thor brushed them away, leaving blood in their wake.

Tony's heart ached. He'd come so close to losing Loki forever (he would not think about it, he would not think about it, not at the moment, he could not), and now they were so close, so very close and yet so far. He had no way of reaching out. When Loki woke up …

"Get back to the base."

Tony nearly started. Fury sounded as serious as ever. Really, that guy had a stick up his ass.

"Loki included."

Oh. Right. Of course he knew, there were more agents than Tony had socks around.

"You heard the Director," said Steve. "Natasha, Clint, take the first van. I'll follow with Thor and Loki. Tony, you're flying back?"

"Yeah, no. The suit's a little beat up. I'll ride with you."

Steve nodded as Tony's armour slowly folded itself back into the suitcase-form. Well, what was supposed to be the suitcase-form anyway. The billionaire vaguely noticed the two SHIELD agents murmuring something to each other while glancing at Loki. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. He forced himself not to watch Thor as he carried Loki to the van. Instead, he slumped in the front seat, having put the suit in the trunk. Steve turned on the engine.

The first battle was behind them. The second had yet to begin.

Tony gritted his teeth.

Loki's unconsciousness was a huge disadvantage; the guy had bargained for his sanity with Odin and won. Tony couldn't risk fighting for his freedom too much lest he be accused of being compromised, and then what?

His eyes slid closed.

They were alive. That was a good thing to focus on. They were alive, Thanos was gone (oh, how the inventor hoped he really was dead), and somehow Tony's life would go on.

He only hoped Loki would be a part of it.

* * *

"Okay, you lot, get to the infirmary."

"What of my brother?"

Fury raised an eyebrow. His arms were crossed over his chest. "I'm sure we'll find space for him somewhere."

"No." Thor's stance mimicked the director's, only his was even more impressive; blood did wonders for the fierce look. "I helped you fight against my brother once, because his actions had provoked it. He has done nothing wrong this time."

Tony glanced at Loki's still body. Thor had refused to let agents take him away (Tony had no doubts he'd be willing to resort to violence, and that was good, very good), so they ended up placing Loki on a bench.

"Loki is a criminal."

"Yeah, isn't he supposed to be rotting in a dungeon or something?" Clint chimed in.

Thor shot the archer a glare. "Aye. As far as I knew, he was imprisoned. But if he is here now, it must be by father's will." He walked over to Loki, took hold of his arm, and pushed the sleeve back. Tony's eyes landed on the familiar silver band of metal.

"This is father's work. It represses my brother's magic."

Clint snorted. "Well, that's something. But why is he on Earth?"

Thor shrugged. "I was banished to Midgard as well."

"And that's it? That's the punishment he gets for his slaughter?"

Okay, Tony, take a deep breath … And exhale. "Why don't we ask him, hm?"

"He's out cold, Stark," Natasha said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I didn't notice."

"Stark, now's not the time."

"It's always the time, Agent Romanoff. Haven't I said that before?" He scratched his chin in a mock gesture of thoughtfulness. "Look, punishment this punishment that, yada yada yada, he closed the portal."

"Man of Iron speaks the truth," Thor hurried, his eyes sparkling with new resolve now that he realised he might not be the only one to defend Loki. "My brother fought this battle on our side."

Clin'ts eyes narrowed. "Why in the world would he do that, huh?"

Steve made a step forward. "Everybody, calm down. Thor, Clint, you're both right. We can't trust Loki. We won't be able to guess his reasons without asking. But he _did_ help us this time."

"He's still a threat, Captain," Fury remarked grimly.

"And we're Earth's mightiest heroes, aren't we?" Come on, why did Tony have to say all the most important things! "I'm sure we could handle him, especially magic-free. And let's be practical here; you'd lock him up, he'd escape, be totally pissed off, and kill you. Good job."

"Then what do you suggest, Stark?"

"Dunno." Close his arms tightly around Loki, take him some place safe and far, far away, and never let him go? "Let's not put him in cell, maybe. Or do you want a Mjolnir-shaped hole in your head? No? Thought so."

"We need to do _something _with him."

"Technically, we don't."

Tony looked at Steve, raising his eyebrows.

"We gave up our right to punish him when we handed him to Odin. It became his choice what to do, and we ought to respect it."

Oh gods-in-all-existent-universes, Tony was going to build a monument for Steve! Maybe he did have a lucky star after all!

"I can't just let him go," Fury objected.

Oh, but he should. He definitely should.

Tony sighed and tried to sound uninterested. "How about I mentally prepare for a destruction of one of the rooms in the tower, and he stays there until he can explain everything? A couple of superheroes should be enough to handle him."

All eyes were on him.

Fury scowled. "What's with your willingness?"

"Yeah, don't get me wrong. We just kicked some intergalactic ass, I need a drink and a shower, and I want to rest. The sooner we deal with the reindeer-question, the sooner I can get that." Tony shrugged. "Or you could lock him up with no regard for Odin's judgement and risk a war with Asgard. Fine with me. Just decide within the next two minutes, yeah?"

Fury had to be practicing that glare in front of the mirror every morning. And that sigh, for it sounded as if the weight of the world lay on his shoulders.

"Fine. Take Loki with you. I'll come around tomorrow if he comes to by then. Just don't do anything stupid, Stark. And keep an eye on him."

"Sure, mom."

Hey. That went well.

* * *

They didn't manage to avoid the infirmary, though. For a change, Thor was the one with the worst injuries, but he was also the one with the best healing powers and the first on the list to be patched up. Steve and Tony were mostly fine.

All in all, it wasn't too long after that that Tony stopped his car in the garage of the Stark tower, although darkness had long since fallen. The men (technically that could only apply to Tony and Steve—Natasha and Clint had kindly informed them they'd come around next morning) climbed out, Thor holding Loki in his arms. They started towards the elevator, but Tony skid to a stop the moment he noticed a familiar female figure standing in front of it, legs slightly apart and arms crossed over her chest. She had 'explain' written all over her face. Right next to 'Anthony Edward Stark'. But she said nether.

"Is that Loki?"

"Huh, that's an easy first question. I was worried you'd ask me what the hell I was thinking. That would've been much harder to answer."

Pepper glared at him.

"Ohh, riiight, answering. Yep, it's Loki. He helped us out a bit."

"He helped you out a bit," Pepper repeated as if trying to comprehend the meaning of the words. She took a breath, probably to give a good lecture, but Steve decided now was not the time.

"Miss Potts, if you'd let us go up? We are all alive and in one piece, and we need to find a place for that guy"—he nodded at Loki—"since Fury agreed keeping him in Stark tower is the best idea for now."

Naturally, they had to list all the reasons for the decision _again_, but at least it was on the way up. Tony could feel questions and strict words radiating from Pepper, concern and thankfulness from Thor, and some indecisive confusion from Steve. What vibe he was giving off, he didn't know.

They put Loki in a guest bedroom on the second floor from the top, next to Thor's (the Trunderer suggested Loki stay in his room, but the other three objected simultaneously). Pepper wanted to call a doctor. Thor assured her his brother had been checked by SHIELD's medical men and had been declared only unconscious. They hadn't been able to tell the reason (Tony had snorted; they hadn't tried too hard, either) but concluded he should be fine. Nobody had been particularly bothered by Loki's state.

"C'mon, Pikachu, let's go."

Thor shook his head. "I'll stay with my brother."

Tony nearly pouted. He too wanted to remain here, hold Loki's hand, and smile when the god woke up, but not with Thor around, not with anyone around, because he at least needed to know where he stood with Loki before making any decisions about letting others see there were feelings involved. Besides, the thought of a long shower and fresh clothes was alluring.

"You should get some rest," Tony said. "And you stink. Go take a shower. Loki will be fine, I've got Jarvis to watch over him. If Loki so much as twitches wrong, I'll know about it. Right, Jarvis?"

"Yes, sir. And I was just about to mention Ms Foster is on the phone. She wishes to know whether Thor is all right and why he didn't call her."

"We were engaged in a glorious battle!" Thor looked towards the ceiling. "Can you tell her that, Voice?"

"You know what, big guy, you should call her," Tony suggested.

"Ummm … I think my phoning cell got destroyed …"

"Cell phone, Legally Blonde." Tony mentally face-palmed. "Pep, can you find him one? There should be some new Stark phones somewhere … I'll hit the shower, okay? Okay. Move, everyone."

* * *

Warm water was wonderful when it came to removing sweat from his skin. Too bad it couldn't wash dark thoughts away as easily. They gnawed at the edge of his mind, screaming for attention he refused to give them.

Everything had worked out fine. Everything had worked out fine. Everything had worked out _fine_.

His hands closed into fists. Rivulets of water ran down his face.

What if, by some coincidence or cruel twist of fate, Thanos wasn't dead?

Images of dark caves flashed through his mind, and Tony screwed his eyes shut.

No. No, Thanos was dead. He wouldn't come back, he'd never hurt Loki again, Tony would never be in captivity again, never again—

His eyes snapped open, and he turned the water off.

What was he going to say to Loki when the latter woke up? Had he seen the press conference and refused to show up, or had it escaped his notice? In both cases—what would happen now?

Tony left the bathroom, pulled on faded blue jeans and a shirt, and opened the door to the lounge room. That was as far as he got, though. Pepper sat on a couch, legs and arms crossed.

She got up when she noticed him.

"Pepper, please, spare me."

"Spare you. Of course, why not?" She approached. "You left because of an urgent situation, possibly a threat, a portal to some crazy magical place that shouldn't even exist opened, you fought against those creatures again, and I had to find all that out from Phil? Would it kill you to leave a message? Something like 'I'm working on a potential security threat'? What if nobody told me anything and you wouldn't come back? I, I—do you have any idea how it feels to wait here, knowing that you might die, and not being able to prevent it?"

How _dared_ she. Like he didn't fight alongside his friends, each of whom could get killed every time. Like he hadn't seen Loki willing to accept what couldn't be anything other than torture to save a planet he had no reason to truly care about, save perhaps Tony, if he still loved him, except if he, perhaps, saw himself as its king, and real kings did not abandon their people, but that was probably not it—he'd said he never wanted any of it to happen, he'd said so—

"Yes, I do! I fucking do! I was willing to sacrifice half the Earth if that was what it took to save one person! Do _you,_"— he'd crossed a line, damn it, he'd blown the line into the air, and he couldn't go back now—"do _you_ have _any idea_ how it feels to stand back and watch someone you _fucking love_ walk towards something worse than death?! _Do you?!_"

For one last moment, his eyes remained on Pepper's face, but he wasn't really seeing. All he could think about was the horrible helplessness he'd felt when the realisation about Loki's plan sank in, and the excruciating pain that had burned through his heart in that moment.

Then he tore his gaze away, slipped through the doorframe, and slammed the door shut behind him. Thank gods for that bottle of whiskey he kept in his bedroom. He grabbed it with feverish urgency, uncorked it, lifted it to his lips—

And had to fight a sudden impulse to throw it across the room and take perverse pleasure in the way glass would shatter. Like a heart. A façade. A moment.

His hands shook as he placed the bottle on top of the chest-of-drawers and continued to do so when he sank down, back pressed against the wall, and buried his face into them.

Fuck.

Just fuck.

If Tony hadn't been so … impatient, if Loki hadn't lost control of himself that time in DC, would Tony have made all the needed connections in his head? Would he have made them fast enough? What if Loki had walked through that portal, and Tony only realised after, and _oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck_—

Why hadn't Loki told anyone?

The way the events had turned out had been coincidental. If Tony hadn't gone out that Christmas, would Loki still have offered his life, no, scratch that, his sanity, in exchange for Earth?

And why, why did he love Tony?

A scorching heat blossomed in the back of his eyes. They watered, but real tears just didn't come.

Would he willingly walk into the arms of the Ten Rings if it meant saving his planet and his love?

He didn't dare to answer.

Life was complicated. Cruel. His head was full of doubts and fears when he should be happy about their success. But he guessed there were a couple things that could shake one to the very core.

Loki had done too many of them.

Tears or not, the sound that came out of Tony's mouth could only be categorised as a sob. His throat felt too tight. His chest, too. Pulling his legs to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them tightly and buried his face in what little space remained between his knees and his breastbone.

The scream he wanted, needed to get out died on his lips.

Breathing was an effort.

A soft knock on the door penetrated the sharp-edged fog around his mind.

"Tony?" Pepper called, her voice worried and oh-so-gentle. "Can I come in?"

He would have answered if his tongue had got the signal from his mind and moved.

"You have five seconds, then I'll open the door, okay?"

Despite her not being able to see, Tony nodded. Pepper stayed true to her word (he counted). Tony heard the door open and close again, and soft footsteps that stopped in front of him. Hands covered his shoulders, but she made no attempt to move him.

"What happened?" she asked softly. "Did someone die?"

Topy shook his head. It had to look awkward, what with the way he was sitting, and he was immediately reminded on Loki and the consequences of his frost giant accident.

"I was scared," he muttered. "I'd never been really scared in battle before. I mean, I'm aware any one of us could die, but everything just turns to adrenalin, yet this time … Thanos was … like a promise of death. Of pain. I knew I had to fear him, that I had reasons to. I ... I was trying to be brave, to do the right thing, but inside I kept thinking … How long would it take him to bring _me_ to my knees?"

Tony swallowed. He dared to lift his gaze for a moment, getting a glimpse of concern and something softer. "It made me think about all the things he'd done. And would do."

"Who is this Thanos?" Pepper sat back on her haunches. Her hands slid to Tony's upper arms, and he looked up.

"No idea. Some being from outer space. I guess the Chitauri were his force."

One of Pepper's eyebrows rose slightly. "But you know things about him?"

"Not … not really. It was just—just a slip of his tongue. A coincidence. What if"—he grabbed Pepper's arms, clutching them like a lifeline—"what if he'd never … What if I hadn't known and nobody would … Nobody would … That was so _brave_! I didn't want to think about it, but if they, if the Ten Rings—if it was me or the world, what if I chose me? And no one would even know, but I knew, and I couldn't let Thanos—"

Were that tears wetting his cheeks? Was that why Pepper's image was blurred?

He wanted to hold Loki, he wanted Loki to be the one listening, because he would understand—

"He told me I had no idea. He told me he'd never wanted any of this, and I didn't believe him. Truth is, I would have done the same. We all would. If I'd had no chance to create the suit, I would have built the Jericho. You do what you must and what you can."

He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. Did his babbling even make any sense to someone who couldn't see inside his head? Pepper's eyebrows were pulled together in thought; she either concluded he was talking gibberish, or was trying to connect the dots.

"I should be happy now, shouldn't I?" His lips tried to morph into a smile. "We're alive and Thanos is most likely dead, and I can't stop thinking about all the what-ifs and all the things I did wrong and everything no one ever notices."

Then he really did smile. "Hey, I guess you should whine about Agent now, to make us even." He sighed. "Well, at least you know where you stand."

Pepper's eyes widened a little. She parted her lips and closed them again. Tony wasn't sure how he felt about the silence hanging over them. It wasn't too bad. Wasn't good, either.

"Loki?" Pepper said slowly.

Tony swallowed. And nodded once. He waited for the storm to come, for gusts of wind to blow away his defences and leave him utterly exposed, for lightning to strike and destroy everything.

It never did.

Pepper put both hands over the lower half of her face, sighing, then let them drop. "How did that happen?"

"It's a long story. I stumbled upon him last Christmas. We met a couple of times since then. It was all strange and complicated and fucked-up."

"I'll believe you that." Laughter suddenly bubbled on her lips, and she shook her head. "But I can't believe how the hell—"

"He didn't really mean to conquer the Earth," Tony hurried. "I don't know the whole story yet, and he might never tell me, but Pep, he's not all bad. He found the cats, he saved Clint's life, he—he's a little rough around the edges, but he's person just like we all are."

Pepper sighed heavily. It seemed there was a battle going on inside her.

"He won't tear your heart out?"

Tony shook his head.

"He won't try to destroy Earth again?"

"Pep, he offered his life to save it."

"To Thanos? Sorry, but your word vomit was hard to understand."

Tony nodded, confirming both her sentences.

"And he won't kill anyone?"

"I don't think he will."

"Then get your ass down there this second!"

"What?" Tony blinked and Pepper rolled her eyes. She grabbed his hand to pull him to his feet.

"You two are in love? Well, now you have a chance to make things right, so go to Loki. He'll need you when he wakes up."

"Pepper …" She was such a wonderful person, and so what if hugging was somewhere on the Tony-Stark-doesn't-usually-do list. He closed his arms around her tightly and held her until Pepper started to laugh and wiggled her way out of his hold.

"You know, I noticed how down you were in the summer and the last month. I know you well enough by now. You wouldn't go to such lengths for just anybody."

A knot tightened in his throat. Pepper had always been a better friend than he deserved, and now …

"Pep," he rasped. "You don't know how much this means."

"Just don't mess up." She opened the door, made to step out, and nearly crashed to the floor since Lumi had decided the doorstep was a wonderful place for sitting. Tony couldn't help but smile a little. He picked the cat up, shushing her mediocre protests. Then he remembered something, and his smile faltered.

"Thor is probably with Loki. It's too early for him to be asleep yet." What was the time anyway? Ten? Eleven?

"It's twenty minutes past eleven, sir," Jarvis supplied.

Already?

"Your private jet at my disposal for two weeks, and I'll convince Thor he really should go to sleep."

"You play dirty, Pepper, but I'd have let you have it for three if you'd asked." Tony's fingers caressed Lumi's silky fur. "Thank you for all this."

She gave him a sad look. "You know, I can't believe I'm doing this, either, but too much of your babbling actually made sense. And I do so have to ask Loki how he managed to convince you to read Shakespeare."

"It's not a happy story."

Pepper tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Jarvis will let you know when to show up."

When she left, Tony pulled Lumi closer. "Let's go find your sister," he murmured into her ear. "And then you can see Loki again. Remember that crazy, gorgeous guy you two adore? Mhm, that's him."

There was no response (not that he'd been expecting one). Chloris was sleeping in her basket for a change. She lazily opened one eye a crack, then went back to her evening nap. Tony snorted. Being his cat had to be wonderful.

After spending the next couple of minutes stroking Lumi, who apparently thought Tony's neck was the right place for her claws to go, Jarvis finally told him that Thor was out of the picture and mercilessly exposed to Pepper's rhetorical questions about all the women-stuff men avoided in enormous circles.

Tony silently crept to Loki's room, opened the door just enough to slip through the crack, and locked it behind him. Convincing everyone he did it as a precaution would be easy; it would hardly do to have Loki wondering through the place, even with Jarvis on the watch.

"Jarv," the billionaire said quietly, "if anyone asks, I'm in my workshop and they're not allowed to disturb me. Under any circumstances."

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy."

He dropped Lumi onto the bed.

Loki was lying on his side, breathing evenly. His boots, coat, and scarf had been removed, but otherwise he was still dressed. The blankets were under him rather than covering him, but he didn't appear to be cold

"Is he still unconscious?" Too bad Bruce wasn't here. But Jarvis's scans were almost as good (as long as it didn't come to fixing the discovered problems in praxis).

"It appears so, sir."

Tony ran his knuckles down Loki's pale, scratched cheek. His heart did something funny in his chest, and he pushed strands of hair away from the god's face (they needed washing, but it was an insignificant detail). Then he kicked off his shoes, climbed onto the bed, sitting so that his back was pressed against the headboard and one of Loki's forearms against his thigh.

"Hey, babe," Tony whispered, caressing the other's forehead. "You're safe now, okay? I'll take care of you. We're gonna be fine."

Loki didn't move. Lumi curled in a ball at the foot of the bed. Tony grasped Loki's hand.

"We're gonna be fine," he said again.

* * *

A/N: *Shibari - Japanese bondage art; **Боже мой- Oh, my God in Russian (at least, it's supposed to mean that)

Sooo ... How many of you saw that coming/guessed why the arc-nuke kept popping up? Hands up? *looks around, counting* I didn't really mean to put so much Tony-angst in there, it just happened ... Also, Loki didn't just show up at the scene randomly ...

I have nothing against Japanese, by the way, I even spent some two years learning it (but forgot most of it :S). And I don't think it sounds like barking, hopefully I haven't offended anyone ...

One last thing: it might take a bit longer for the next chapter to be up. There's a short-story contest in my country, and I'd be a fool not to participate, what with the award and the delicious inspiration ... (no, it's not Loki, but it'll do). I'll need time to write that first. Just so you know.

Reviews are the food for my soul. They will also help Loki come to faster, so you can get some Frostiron fluff ... ^^


	14. Chapter 14: January 16

A/N: Once again, thank you for all the attention you've given this story. And a huge, huge thank to blaze221B for being my beta. *sends over some virtual muffins*

And I promised you fluff, so there it is! (Although Tony's mental comments someimes spoil the mood ...) Also, I now officially don't like writing scenes with too many people very much ... *sigh*

Part I: Astor Piazzolla—Oblivion

Last part: Uragiri wa Boku no Namae wo Shiteiru—Raintree Calling

* * *

**January 16****th**

"_I have bed news." He watched her eyes for her reaction. "I love you."_

_~Kristen Painter: Out for Blood_

All it took was one small sound, and Tony's slumber came to an abrupt end. A nasty stiffness had settled in his neck, but what else was to be expected from his overly comfortable sitting position? He didn't even try to find an answer. Loki whimpered again. His face was mostly covered with shadows since Tony was sitting between him and the dimmed nightlight, but the tension in his muscles was no less visible. His head tilted from one side to the other as far as it would go and back again.

"Loki," Tony murmured, rolling the god onto his back and shaking his shoulders. "Loki, wake up."

"Nhhmm …"

"Loki. Wake up, it's just a dream." He shook the Trickster. "Come on."

Loki's eyelids fluttered. "Wh-what?"

Disoriented.

"It's okay. You're safe. It was just a dream."

"Hmm?"

His eyes closed again. Damn, how Tony wanted to hug him. It wouldn't be the smartest idea though. Tony remembered how twitchy he's been after Afghanistan. If he were to wake up back then and find somebody restricting his movements, he'd lose it. And if the Thanos incident had brought _his_ bad memories back, it surely hadn't let Loki's untouched. So the inventor settled for holding the other's hand like before, while he listened to his breathing even out. When he was sure Loki was asleep, he slowly grabbed one of the pillows and placed it under his neck.

It was one of the longest nights Tony remembered. Loki woke up two more times only to drift back into the land of unconsciousness moments later. Once, he didn't even open his eyes and Tony was pretty sure Loki wasn't aware of his surroundings or situation.

It was sometime after four in the morning when Loki finally woke up by himself, without Tony shaking him out of bad dreams. There was a quiet groan, some confused blinking, then his muscles tensed and he bolted uprights. Tony instinctively tried to get some distance between them, but there was nowhere for him to move and he crashed to the floor with all the dignity of a sack of potatoes.

"Damn." He shook his hand as if that could make the pain in it go away, and looked up only to find Loki staring back at him from his half sitting position.

"Stark?"

"Yeah, that would be me. In case you're wondering"—because of course he was, how could he not be—"we're in Stark tower, and we'll both be very thankful that I have soundproof walls because your brother, who has no clue whatsoever that I'm here, is snoring next door, and we want it to stay that way, right? Right. Good morning, by the way. Or good middle-of-the-night, whichever you prefer."

Loki spent a couple of moments just looking at him, perhaps trying to process that flood of words, who knew. His brow furrowed.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. What for?"

Loki's voice was no louder than a murmur. "For killing him."

"Ah." Tony ran a hand through his hair. "So, he is dead. Yeah, you know, I couldn't just let him get away, he looked like the biggest bastard in—how many universes are there exactly? No, wait, sorry, that's not ... That's not what I need to say right now. Loki …"

Tony pushed himself to his feet and sat down on the bed. His heart threatened to burst, and his throat closed up. He swallowed. Their gazes met.

"… I love you."

And he would swear Loki stopped breathing. Emotions flooded those wide, glistering viridian eyes. His lips parted, closed, and parted again as if he was trying to speak, but no sound came out. Then he sucked in a shaky breath, eyes sliding close. A single tear clung to his eyelashes and Tony reached out to brush it away; his hand cupped Loki's cheek, thumb tracing the line of his sharp cheekbone.

"What?" the god breathed, looking up. His eyes, his expression have never been so open before. His mask had shattered to pieces, and what lay beneath it was raw and vulnerable. Happy, and yet so sad. Tony's breathing caught for a moment.

He took Loki's hand and slowly brought it to his lips, not yet touching but close enough that his breath washed over the place skin.

"I love you."

"Stark."

The billionaire pressed his lips to Loki's knuckles.

"_Anthony …_"

Loki's fingers squeezed his own. Heavenly warmth spread through the man's chest, because he'd finally, _finally_, said the right thing. Loki lay beside him, practically unmade by those three simple words, with unshed tears changing his eyes into something even more magical, and Tony ran his free hand through the god's hair, causing the latter to exhale deeply.

"Tony. Call me Tony."

"Tony."

Oh gods, his name sounded different when it came from Loki's lips. Like it was way more than just a name. Like it was something precious, something to be kept safe. He wanted to hear it again and again, and, oh, if Loki were to cry it out in the heat of passion …

"Tony. I … I …" He averted his gaze. "I …"

"You love me too," Tony finished (who would have thought someone sucked at expressing feelings even more than he?).

"Yes," Loki said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Sorry for loving him? Sorry for not saying it?

Tony cupped his face with both hands and guided it towards the left a little so that they were looking at each other.

"It's okay." He leaned downwards.

"No. I'm sorry. For … _things_."

"I kinda figured out all that wasn't really your plan."

"I didn't mind the destruction," Loki said slowly, staring deep into Tony's eyes. "Destruction is chaos, and I relish chaos. It's in my blood."

"So it comes with the job description? God of Mischief and Chaos?" Tony wiggled his eyebrows. Their faces were still only inches apart.

"And fire."

"Fire. Of course. How could I forget fire …?"

His lips ghosted over Loki's. Tony pulled back just enough to prop himself on his elbows before he sealed their lips together anew. It was a careful kiss, all about trying, searching, testing. Tony exhaled, Loki shuddered.

"We should talk about things." As much as the billionaire didn't want to.

Loki didn't say anything. One of his hands came up to Tony's face, and he slowly traced the features with his fingertips. Tony caught his hand and pressed a kiss to the knuckles again. He could barely believe this was actually happening. He was here. With Loki. Holding his hand. They'd kissed. He was … Loki was his. His.

And he _smiled_.

If Tony died in that moment, he'd die a happy man. Somehow, all of the problems seemed less serious now, like they were far away, overshadowed by something brilliant, and he couldn't resist smiling as well, because … because …

"You killed him."

Tony's smile faltered. "I hope so."

"Oh, you did." Loki freed his hand and pushed himself in a sitting position. Tony only arched his eyebrows, expecting an explanation.

"Thanos managed to get into my mind. It wasn't quite the same thing the sceptre did to people, but akin to it. He built a connection. It shattered when your beast redecorated the floor with me"—Loki grimaced—"yet a part of his mind remained anchored in my brain. I felt it … combust."

"That's what knocked you out."

"I would not phrase it that way, but yes."

"Ookay … Scoot over a bit. Come on." Tony playfully pushed at Loki's shoulder, indicating he should move, and lay down when he got enough space. His hand found the god's. "I'm so glad you're here," he murmured. "When I realised what you were going to do … You're an awesome actor, you know that?"

"I should like to think so. One has to get through life somehow."

Ouch.

Acting.

Blowjob.

"Loki …" Tony slowly wrapped his arms around the other man, waiting for a reaction. At first there was none. But seconds passed, and Loki gradually relaxed into the embrace. Tony buried his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. One more minute in silence, and Tony felt an arm wrap around his torso.

He should ask about the press conference. He should apologize.

But he was afraid.

"How come you appeared at just the right time in just the right place?"

Stalling had always worked perfectly fine.

"I've been close by for a while. The sceptre's magic was growing stronger."

Tony frowned. "I thought you can't use magic."

"True. But it's there. Just out of my reach, but present. I can sense other sources of magic."

The genius part of Tony's brain couldn't help but see the endless possibilities exploring magic would create. All the things Loki knew, everything he could show if he were able to use magic … Dreamland for scientists.

"Fury's coming over today. He'll want to talk to you. Or, knowing him, at you."

"I'm sure I can handle him."

"He practices his scowl in the mirror."

"Does he?"

"I don't know."

Loki laughed. Briefly, but it was real, genuine laughter, not a chortle, not the manic kind. It did things to Tony's insides nothing should ever be allowed to do.

"We'll deal with him," he said with newfound decisiveness. "He yielded yesterday, I won't let him lock you away now."

"I've bargained for my skin in worse circumstances."

Tony sighed. "I wish you didn't have to." He pressed a kiss to Loki's jaw.

"It's in the past."

"Yeah, but the past comes back to haunt us."

Tentatively, as if he were afraid of Tony's reaction, Loki let his hand knead the knotted muscles in the man's shoulders.

"Mmm …" Tony nearly purred, partly realistically, partly to encourage him. "You know, I really hate to bring up another serious topic. Have you seen my press conference?"

He felt Loki shake his head.

"I heard people talking about some speech of yours. They said it was about a woman."

Oh.

_Oh._

Of course he wouldn't want to know about it then.

"They assumed it was. I was talking about you. Well, to you. You can … You can ask Jarvis to play it for you sometime. I was trying to apologise for everything I did to you."

"What?"

Tony felt Loki's breath on his ear.

"My stupid comments. That blowjob thing. Out last meeting in DC. What I said to Pepper then, I didn't mean it like that. I would never just forget you. I wanted to tell you I loved you, but I suck at feelings. Majorly. Wanting you was so much easier." Tony pulled away a little. "I shouldn't have done that. Shouldn't have initiated that blowjob either."

Loki blinked. "You didn't force me into anything."

"I encouraged it. I'm sorry. But I don't understand … Why did you do it?"

Loki didn't reply. His gaze was fixed on a spot on Tony's neck. The inventor sighed gently.

"You don't have to tell me. This isn't an interrogation. I only wish to understand you."

"Why would I not do it? You wanted it."

"Of course, but I also thought it was a dream!" Would it seem exaggerated if he sighed again? "I watched the footage, saw you throw up. That didn't seem like fun."

Tony caressed his cheek, traced the scratch on it.

Loki frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like _that_. Like I just acted against all your expectations."

"I'm not …" Was he? Loki's response _was_ confusing … "I'm not. I was just thinking. You're okay. Just, um … I'm not good at that kind of stuff. So if you're not comfortable with something, you should say so. Don't go all Hollywood on me."

Loki raised his eyebrows, grunted something unintelligible, and closed his eyes.

"So, are we good—I mean, can you forgive me for all that shit?"

"You killed Thanos, Stark," the god slurred.

"I also brought Lumi down here," Tony said, ignoring the sting the usage of his family name caused. He was pretty certain Loki had said all he was willing to say on the topic for now; mentioning the cats couldn't hurt now. "She spent a while on the bed, but I guess the toilet lid suits her better. Want me to get her?"

Loki managed something like "mightaswell", already half asleep. Tony pressed a quick kiss on his temple. Whether it was the fighting that had worn Loki out so much, the mind-thing, the memories or the nightmares, or perhaps all of the above, Tony couldn't help but feel a trace of pride along with sympathy. Loki was stubborn. If he deemed it unsafe or even just damaging for his pride to show weakness here, he'd still be wide awake.

Perhaps for the first time in his life, Tony was that one person somebody trusted and came to for help.

He swallowed a knot in his throat even as he smiled. It seemed he wouldn't be Tony Stark anymore if his life stopped being turned upside down all the time.

Gingerly, he slipped off the bed, found Lumi in the bathroom, and put her down beside Loki's hip.

* * *

A hand shook his shoulder.

"Tony."

"Lemme sleep."

"Shhh."

Wait. Wait, wait, wait.

His eyes snapped open. "Pepper?"

True enough, she stood beside the bed. On Tony's other side, Loki was still sleeping. Their hands were clasped under the blanket.

"I thought you should get into your own bed before Thor decides to check up on Loki."

"Oh. Right." He rubbed his eyes. Sleep tugged heavily at his eyelids. "What time is it?"

"Almost six."

"Oh joy." He slept for what, an hour and a half? "Thanks."

"Private jet, remember?" She smirked.

Tony just shook his head. Getting out of the bed was hard. Despite the suit, yesterday's fight had left his muscles aching.

"Waait … How'd you get into the room? I'm sure I locked the door …"

Pepper arched her eyebrows. "You do know Jarvis controls this place?"

"Mmhm. Sorry, zombie mode."

"You sure are walking like one."

He probably was, too. It was a miracle he managed to make it into his own bedroom. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Come to think of it, he should really cancel that weather forecast thing.

"Shut up," he groaned, trying to keep his eyes open.

"Sir, Director Fury requested your presence in the Avengers longue room."

Another groan. It was eight o'clock. Eight. How was the Cyclops already here?

Gods, he needed coffee …

Splashing cold water into his face helped a little. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, filled the whole bathroom with the scent of his deodorant, and changed into a fresh shirt. His reflexion still looked like crap. Installing a coffee maker in his bedroom seemed like a good idea …

Yawning, he headed first to his kitchen to get a very strong, very black coffee, then down to the guest-floor, as he'd come to call it.

"Took you long enough, Stark."

"Yeah, good morning."

Tony dragged himself to the nearest couch and flopped down beside Pepper. Everybody else was already there. Coulson sat on Pepper's other side while Steve, Clint, and Natasha shared the largest sofa. Fury stood in front of the TV, and the two Norse gods sat in the loveseat, Loki subtly trying to get as much distance as possible between them, Thor less subtly doing the opposite.

Tony caught the Trickster's gaze for a moment. Loki looked … Well, the way Loki had looked lately. Pale, too thin, with dark shadows under his eyes, but there was a spark in those green orbs that Tony hadn't even realised wasn't there before; they were alive. His hair (newly washed, it seemed) was pulled back and tied in a short ponytail, and—Tony swallowed—he was wearing one of Tony's old hoodies that looked damn good on him, black sweatpants that came from who knew where, and his boots.

It had to be Pepper's work.

"Looking at you, I'd say it's the middle of the night," Clint remarked, his expression grim. Because of Loki's presence, no doubt.

"I feel like it is."

That earned him a few raised eyebrows. He shrugged. "Sleeping is overrated. I had better things to do."

He had to force himself not to glance at Loki.

"Okay, kids, we are not in kindergarten here," Fury chimed in.

Tony sipped his coffee. "Whatever you say. Mum."

Fury sighed, irritated. His eye turned towards Loki, who stared back impassively.

"All right, explain yourself."

The very slight arc of his eyebrow was excepted but Loki's expression didn't shift.

"As I have done many things that could require explanation, I'd ask you to be more specific."

Fury's expression darkened and Tony gave a mental high-five to Loki.

"Fine," the director growled. "Why did you fight against your allies yesterday?"

Loki's eyes narrowed just the slightest. Tony doubted anyone who wasn't looking for a reaction would notice.

"They were hardly my allies."

"They helped you wreck chaos in Manhattan just fine."

"Situations change, director. I'm sure you are familiar with the concept of adaptability."

Tony made another sip. This, this wasn't just an interrogation. This was a competition in which none of the opponents would back off no matter what. What stood out even more than that—Loki wasn't about to reveal the truth.

"And what do you gain from the situation?"

Loki snorted. "Why, I am simply obeying my orders."

Now Tony wanted to snort. Loki would never ever follow commands without personal motivation.

Fury clasped his hands behind his back. The edge of his trademark coat hit his calves.

"Who's orders?"

"Not yours, I'm sure."

Nice one. But Tony suddenly had a bad feeling about all this. He himself defied Fury whenever possible just to annoy him as well, but wouldn't Loki's chances be better if he played along instead of infuriated Fury into throwing him in a cage?

"Can't you just answer, Reindeer Games?" he asked.

Loki's gaze shifted to him.

"Now where's the fun in that?"

"Loki …" The growling came from Thor this time. "I know father is involved. Explain your situation."

The Trickster glared. The heel of his palm connected with Thor's shoulder, effectively pushing him away and giving Loki enough time to stand. He walked up to Fury, meeting his gaze.

"Don't think I'm obliged to tell you anything. It is a product of circumstances that you request answers I have interest in offering."

Without giving Fury a chance to answer, he jerked up his sleeves and held out his wrists.

"See this?" He pulled his hands back, covering the bracelets again. "They restrict my magic. I am on this ridiculous planet, because Odin's verdict sent me here."

"Banishment," Steve said. "We figured that much."

"Yes." The word was partly hissed. "Odin wants me to redeem myself. To make it up to humans, seeing as I have wronged them."

"In other words, good deeds for the mankind?"

And Tony had wondered why Loki hadn't joined the mafia and made a successful living. Well, there was the missing piece. That was why he'd saved Clint. Probably why he'd kept sticking around. Of course the god would want his magic back. Tony preferred having all his senses, too.

"Wait, he's supposed to do _charity_?" Clint grimaced. "Why don't we just send an arrow through his head?"

"That would be counterproductive," Coulson said. "Thor? Is that the truth?"

"It sounds like something father would do," Thor replied slowly. "And the gauntlets are certainly his. But father said I was too biased to help decide my brother's punishment, so I do not know for certain."

"I'm not your brother," Loki spat. "I had expected you would at least stay well informed."

"What do you mean? I knew you were in prison, and I had father's word that nothing … too cruel would happen to you."

Loki laughed at that, and oh how Tony knew that brittle, mirthless laughter. His chest constricted in pain when he heard it.

"Well, then it must have been true. But you should know I have been on Earth longer than you think."

"Why haven't you sought me out, brother?"

Loki bared his teeth at the title. "That is not for you to know."

But Tony knew and it hurt. If he'd been nicer to Loki, would the god have joined them sooner and perhaps have his magic back by now?

"So what do we do?" Steve.

"There is no formula to solve this, my friends. I, too, didn't know what it would take to get my powers back."

Loki snorted. His fists clenched and unclenched and Tony's brow furrowed.

"You have to do good things for society." Fury pinched the bridge of his nose, regarding Loki.

"That is one way of putting it. You, however, are not required to do anything."

"Oh, no! Perhaps we don't get to stick you in a glass cage, but I sure as hell won't let you roam Earth without supervision!" Clint leaned forward. "He can't just do whatever he wants, director!"

"Please. You had no idea about my presence on this piece of rock," Loki replied disdainfully.

Natasha placed a hand on Clint's forearm, but her eyes were scrutinizing the dark-haired god. "And how long have you been here?"

"Long enough."

Clint huffed. "There we go again with the word games! It seems to me that you want something from us here, so stop fucking behaving this way!"

"I certainly want nothing from you. Wouldn't want to offend your little spider …"

Clint lunged forward. Natasha and Tony shouted his name at the same time, even as the former and Steve pulled the archer back. Fury shot him a look, and Natasha glared in Loki's direction. The latter raised his hands as if in surrender.

"If you would be inclined to listen, Director …"

"What is it?"

"Your group of"—he looked around—"heroes is supposedly the one doing good deeds around here. It would be convenient for all of us if I provided … help. You would get to keep an eye on me"—Tony snickered mentally, because Fury couldn't possibly keep _more_ than an eye on him—"comply with Odin's wishes, and provide an opportunity for my punishment to be carried out."

Tony had to hand it to him, the guy knew how to perform. His words sounded humble, his posture screamed humility, and damn, his eyes were slightly downcast. All in all, he allowed Fury to think _he_ was in control of the situation while pulling the strings of his subconscious.

The SHIELD director rubbed his forehead—he was considering Loki's words, Tony could tell—when suddenly Pepper spoke.

"Tony can give him a job at Stark Industries."

Everyone stared at her, even Loki, and Tony just really, really wanted to hug her for that.

"We deal with clean energy, ergo trying to help the world. SHIELD would have enough control to not become paranoid. Word of Avengers missions always gets around, and Tony can annoy someone to death, which would also be a plus."

"Hey!" the billionaire objected, although he couldn't muster a single ounce of anger. Pepper was a genius. _And_ the corners of Loki's mouth curled up, so Tony really couldn't object the remark.

Thor positively beamed. "That is a great idea, Lady Pepper! Friend Stark, would you do that?"

Awesome, now he didn't even have to pretend to be against it, because no one could fight Thor's puppy eyes.

"I suppose Jarvis could watch over his ass," he grumbled. Loki arched his eyebrow at that. There was a silent message in his green (so very green, illegally green) eyes, but Tony wasn't sure about its meaning. Was he supposed to object more convincingly? Or had Loki resented his tone?

He shrugged, trying to convey his ignorance.

"Although the let's-just-dump-him-on-Tony idea isn't—you know what, it doesn't matter."

"Stark, you have confidential information in your tower," Coulson said. He'd been strangely quiet, keeping his eyes on Loki. It probably wasn't easy seeing his would-be-murderer. Hell, it surely wasn't.

"Which Jarvis can keep completely safe," came a voice from the door. "What's going on here?"

"Bruce! No, not a purple shirt again, who the hell dresses you?!" There was a grin on Tony's face as he strode across the room to slap the newcomer on the back. "Good to see you!"

"Likewise. What …" Bruce pushed his glasses further up. "What's going on here?"

"Our whole lives are about to change," Tony said dramatically.

"What?"

"You know, it really is good to see you. SHIELD called you in a little late, though."

Fury threw his hands in the air. "I think I'll leave Loki here just so I don't have to listen to you anymore, Stark. You're worse than a woman."

Which was not a very wise thing to say, considering there were two deadly women present, but if Fury wanted to get his butt kicked, Tony surely wasn't about to object.

"Loki will need an ID," he said instead.

"Yes, yes. Coulson will get the papers done." He turned to Loki, his voice low. "If you so much as breathe in the wrong way, you'll be sorry your dad didn't lock you up in some dark godforsaken place."

Loki's mouth curled into a smirk. Fury glared for another second before turning.

"Agents, come with me."

Tony caught Natasha's gaze. It was hard to define the silent communication that passed between them—even he didn't know what it was their eyes said—but he knew Fury'd want Natasha's opinion on the whole thing, so perhaps it was some kind of question, some kind of reassurance, or perhaps just a silent moment shared solely on coincidence. She held Clint's elbow as they went, the archer studying Tony's floor. Coulson smiled his traditional half-smile and gave Pepper a quick kiss. Tony wanted to do the same to Loki. But he didn't. When he looked at the god, Loki's attention was on his hands clasped before him. His right thumb was drawing patterns on the palm of his left hand.

Tony fell back on the couch. Bruce, somewhat twitchy, did too.

"I missed something big, didn't I?"

"Yep. I'll tell you later."

"What are you going to do with him?" asked Steve.

Tony shrugged, placing the empty coffee mug on the club table. "Pepper? You gave birth to the idea."

"Well, I think you two would enjoy each other's company immensely … A personal assistant?"

Personal assistant. That sounded somewhat like a secretary. And a secretary was that person he got to screw on the desk …

That mental image should probably be banned.

"Personal assistant?" asked Thor.

"Someone who makes sure Tony get to meetings on time. Or at all," Pepper explained. "He needs somebody for that, and I need to be his CEO, not his nanny. Loki should be able to handle the job, he'd be close enough for us to keep an eye on him, and he'd annoy Tony the same way Tony does it to me."

"That's it! No private jet for you!"

She simply arched her eyebrows.

"Okay, okay, you're brilliant, you get the jet, I give up."

"Great. Now that that's cleared, I have work to do. I can explain to Loki his duties during the weekend."

Tony nodded and sighed.

He had Loki. He finally had Loki.

He got to _keep_ Loki.

But he knew fate didn't like him enough to allow his future to be easy.

"How the hell did we get here?" he said.

Loki shrugged.

* * *

"So you haven't abandoned weapon manufacturing."

_Of course, you tell him the story, and that's the first thing he asks. _

Tony leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. Bruce was rummaging through the refrigerator. Steve had left to get his things after declaring he'd help Tony manage Loki. The latter was talking to Thor in the longue room. Or, as far as Tony could hear from the kitchen, Thor was doing the talking, and Loki ignored it.

"It's not manufacturing. It's called inventing."

"But you kept the plans."

"Of course I did." Tony took a bite of his toast. "I didn't think I'd ever use that thing. It was a puzzle to solve, as frustrating as it was interesting. Like exploring the sceptre. It was meant to exist for my amusement, nothing more. But now I'm glad I made it. Our victory was a miracle."

"Science, you mean."

"That too. Still …" Tony ran a hand though his hair. Bruce sat down next to him with a yoghurt.

"You accepted Loki quickly."

"He did close the portal."

_He loves me. _I _love him. It hurts when he's not around._

_I hurt him._

_He loves me._

"Tony?"

"Hm?"

"You spaced out …"

"Right. He helped. You're not going back to Calcutta after SHIELD dragged you here for nothing. I told them calling you was useless. But no, I guess Fury did it anyway when the portal appeared."

"How did the portal open?"

Tony took another bite. "Loki might know. Or I can show you my findings on the sceptre. You're staying, right?"

He needed someone who spoke science around. Loki would probably understand in time if he was interested. But Bruce was a friend. A fellow scientist. And Loki was … Loki.

"If you insist."

"Hey, you're always welcome here. And your other half. I think green would go great with the new curtains."

"You don't have curtains."

"Sure I do. In some rooms. In very few rooms. But I totally have curtains."

Bruce shook his head, smiling indecisively.

"Unless"—Tony's expression turned serious—"you're bothered by Loki staying here? The tower is big, you can easily avoid him, that's not a problem. He won't cause trouble."

"You don't know that."

"Fine, he probably will cause _some_ trouble, but nothing serious. He's not stupid," Tony added when he saw another questioning gaze.

"You seem certain."

Tony shrugged. "He's supervised by Jarvis. Practically surrounded by heroes. He can't use magic." He loved Tony.

Bruce didn't appear convinced. Still, he said no more, for which Tony was thankful. He swallowed down the last piece of toast.

"Come on, let's show Thor that conversations are more fun if you talk to somebody who actually answers."

* * *

Loki lasted a whole seven minutes in front of the TV (and Tony knew, because he spent more of them secretly watching the god than the old classic Steve had pulled from somewhere). Tony managed to stay another twenty. He hadn't had a single minute alone with Loki the whole day; Thor's persistence to reach his brother (and Loki's ability to ignore the non-desirable sounds) was immense.

"Gotta feed the cats," Tony murmured to Bruce, who seemed to be enjoying the movie, and slipped out onto the corridor.

"Jarvis, where's Loki?"

"In his room. But for you, sir, he might be on the terrace of your floor."

"He's not trying to jump, is he?"

"No, sir."

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. For a second, his insides had been frozen.

"I promised him not to reveal his whereabouts. If you would mind keeping the information to yourself …"

"You've taken a liking to him." Tony entered the elevator. "You're not supposed to like people."

"You wound my feelings, sir."

"Which you're not supposed to have."

"I am but a product of your engineering."

"Yeah, don't ever tell anyone."

The doors parted to let him through.

Loki was sitting on the stairs leading outside, forearms resting on his thighs. Most of his face was hidden in the darkness of the evening. Lights from the inside illuminated the line of his jaw. His head was bowed.

Tony stopped next to him.

"Aren't you cold?"

Because he sure was, dressed only in a shirt, but Loki shook his head.

"I don't really get cold. Not in such a short amount of time."

"Right." Tony wrapped his arms around himself. His eyes wandered to the horizon where the last of the city ended and darkness that was never really black began.

"Nights are prettier in Malibu," he said. "Less lights around. I should take you there."

Loki remained silent. He was probably looking at his hands. Tony rubbed his upper arms, trying to get some warmth into them. He didn't really know what to say. He wished he could see the stars.

"When Thor got banished," Loki suddenly began, his voice serious and something else, too, but that last thing was heavily clouded, "he lost the power to wield Mjolnir. He lost all of his powers. Strength. Healing ability. For a short while, he became mortal. I didn't know that. Or maybe I did. Mortals were a strange concept to me."

A pause. Tony didn't say anything. He knew what happened when Thor came to Earth, though not the story behind it. In the moment, he didn't care. There was a purpose in Loki's words. Tony wanted to hear them. He wanted Loki to want to tell him.

"He offered his life to save a small town. The blow would have been fatal, had his powers not returned to him."

Tony waited for the god to go on, but Loki didn't. He lifted his head, looking towards the very point of horizon Tony had before.

"You should go back in. It's cold."

"It's not so bad."

Loki's eyes remained focused on something far, far away. "You're shivering."

Tony could ignore the cold. He really could. But there was more to Loki's words than worry, so he nodded, shifting his weight.

"Will you come and find me later?"

"Yes."

Such a simple word with so much weight.

* * *

It was the shifting of the bed that woke him. Loki sat down and took his hand.

But he was gone in the morning.

* * *

A/N. Well. I hope you liked it. And I hope you'll drop a review. Please do? Pretty please? ^^


	15. Chapter 15: January 22 - January 29

A/N: Thanks for reviews! And again, blaze221B did the beta work, so cookies for her.

Part III: Uragiri wa Boku no Namae wo Shiteiru—Past and Sadness

* * *

_You can't chase away the reverberations of memories that stir as night falls or in the early morning hours. You can't chase away echoing words still less echoing silence. ~__**D. de Vigon, No And Me**_

* * *

**January 22****nd**

Loki looked damn good in tight-fitted black jeans. Well, he looked damn good in everything (or without it—now that was a mental image worth drooling over later), and Tony would know, since he'd taken the god shopping. The things they'd bought were dark, dark, and dark again, and Loki had rolled his eyes with great exaggeration when Tony practically forced him to try on a bright yellow T-shirt.

"Stark. Focus."

"I am focused."

"All right then. What should I tell Miss Potts?"

"Um." Tony scratched his chin. "What was the question again?"

Loki's eyebrow formed a perfectly shaped, perfectly patronising arch. His fingers drummed on the edge of the tablet absent-mindedly. Perhaps he didn't know everything there was to know about the business world yet, but Tony had to hand it to him; so far, Loki was doing a pretty good job keeping him on track. Also, whatever Tony showed him that had to do with technology, he mastered in record time.

"When do you plan to make a public appearance again?"

"Oh. That."

How about … not now? He had Loki now, Loki's hands to hold, Loki's lips to taste. Society's importance had faded rapidly.

"A charity concert for an organisation called UNICEF, which, apparently, you support, is on February 10, as well as a presentation of the Sky company."

Ah, those guys. Tony had met the president of the company once. At least he—Jason Sky? Jackson Sky?—wasn't as annoying as Hammer had been. Or as incompetent, it seemed. But he was trying to succeed with clean energy, and that niche was already taken by Stark Industries, so yeah, too bad for them.

"I would suggest the concert," added Loki.

"Because it'll be less boring?" Tony liked that way of thinking.

"No. You are number one on the market. There is nothing they can announce that you can't find out another way. If someone resents your lack of interest in competition, they'll forgive you, since you will be spending time for a much nobler cause. Everything for the children. There will also be fewer chances for journalists or other people to talk to you, which is, I think, in your interest, given your last public appearance."

"How the hell do you know all that?"

Loki gave him a Look that suspiciously resembled Pepper's one. "You are aware I've been using the internet for over a year?"

Of course he had …

"Wait, you had a computer?"

"Ever heard of public libraries, Stark?"

"Not sure. It does sound familiar, though …" He grinned. "But you're good at that. Advising, I mean."

Loki's smile was sour. "I would have become Thor's personal advisor."

"If?"

Loki's fingers closed around the edge of the tablet. His lips formed a silent line.

"Loki." Tony leaned towards him, placing a hand on his forearm. "What happened in Asgard?"

A second. Two. Three.

"Some puzzle pieces fell into place."

Tony silently waited for Loki to go on. After all, he often spoke after a while had passed. But not this time. This time, he only leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes, and Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

* * *

**January 26****th**

"Have you got some more books?"

Tony nearly jumped. He dropped the screwdriver he'd been holding and sucked in a breath.

"Jesus, don't _do_ that to me! I don't allow you to come into my workshop just so you could scare me!" He picked the screwdriver up from the floor. "Why are you even up? Isn't it like five in the morning?"

"Half past six."

"That much?" Tony turned around. His body was beginning to feel the lack of sleep catching up with him. Loki though, Loki looked like his lack of sleep had already caught him and had done it none too gently.

"Couldn't sleep?" Tony asked tentatively. It was a delicate topic (although it sometimes seemed he was the only one who thought so).

Loki shook his head. "I slept. And you?"

Tony shrugged. "You know me, tinkering with technology. You think it would be possible to achieve the same effect as a nuke with only arc reactor technology?"

"I don't know." Loki sat onto the nearest desk. "It would be with magic. Your arc reactor seems very close to it in nature."

"When you put it that way … Oh, right. Books. I don't really have books here. But there's a small library in my New York house … It's all dusty now. I haven't been there in ages."

"You grew up there."

Damn. Sometimes the Trickster was much too perceptive.

Tony nodded. "My mother organised it even before I was born … The library, I mean. I can have the place cleaned, if you want."

For a moment, a spark lit Loki's eyes and disappeared so fast Tony could have as well imagined it. Which he hadn't. Loki loved books, that much was clear by now. He would enjoy a private library.

But he shook his head.

"You don't have to. I'll go to the public library."

Tony wanted to object. He wanted to tell Loki that of course they can go see the house, he'll call a cleaning service, and they can enter it in an hour if he pays extra, no problem, none at all, but he couldn't. That place held so many memories, most of them rarely allowed to resurface. Not because they were necessarily bad. They were simply ghosts of a time long since passed, a fragrance of all he'd lost in course of the years. Those bookshelves belonged to his mum. She belonged to them, not to a cold grave upon which flowers were placed every week. _She_ belonged there. Not Loki.

And Tony felt guilty as hell feeling this way.

"I can take you to a bookstore," he offered.

Once again, Loki shook his head. "Even Thor has eyes."

"This isn't only about Thor."

"Perhaps."

Tony pushed away some tools to create space on the desk next to Loki and sat down on it.

"What's wrong?"

Loki's shoulders sagged. The dark crescents hadn't disappeared from under his eyes.

"I'm tired," he murmured.

"Hey." Tony placed a hand on the back of Loki's neck and gently guided him down until the god's head rested on the billionaire's shoulder. "If you want to, you can choose the books and make a list, and I'll buy them for you. How about that?"

"The library should suffice. Thank you for the offer."

"Do me a favour? Say thanks."

"Why?"

"Because."

Tony was sure Loki rolled his eyes.

"No."

"Come on. Thanks. T-h-a-n-k-s."

Loki looked up, a half-smile tugging at his lips, and Tony felt warmth spill inside his chest. And then Loki's eyes bored deep into Tony's soul, and the man swallowed because of the sad intensity in those green oceans and the way those pale lips parted and that smile dissolved into nothingness.

"I don't want Thor to know." Loki's breath ghosted over Tony's lips. Their foreheads were nearly touching. "This is mine. He has no right … He has no right to anything here." His voice wavered a little at the end.

"Okay." Damn, Loki's closeness was distracting. "We won't tell people. We haven't yet, and we won't. That's fine."

"And Potts won't tell?"

There was anxiety in these words Tony didn't understand; they were practically begging for a reassurance that their secret would remain just that—theirs.

"She won't. Why?"

Loki shrugged and pulled away, putting some distance between them again.

"Loki. Babe. What is it?"

The tabloids would go crazy if they found out about this—Tony Stark had changed into a caring person, who wanted to understand, and help, and soothe. He didn't know when or how that had happened, and though he still wasn't very good at all the emotional stuff, he suddenly _wanted_ to offer comfort when before he would have run away screaming (well, in his mind he would). He longed to get through to Loki, to understand him, to simply _know_ him.

Perhaps he was beginning to understand love.

And perhaps this was just wishful thinking.

Loki hopped off the desk.

"I'll let you work," he said and buried his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Tony knew if he reached for him, he would only grasp air.

* * *

**January 29****th**

Loki liked to lie on the couches with his calves hanging over the armrest. He held his books with one hand, rarely with both. Sometimes, he'd turn the books upside down and read that way. Because he wanted to, he'd said.

* * *

He had dreams he didn't remember. But they kept dark shadows under his eyes.

Sometimes he'd come into Tony's room in the middle of the night, but he was never there when Jarvis announced a new day.

* * *

He avoided Thor.

Thor chased after him, almost begging him to become the brother the Thunderer had once known again.

* * *

He called Tony by his surname.

* * *

He kept wearing his boots despite the fact Tony could buy him a whole shoe company. There must have been some deeper reason behind it, a sentiment of a kind.

At some point Tony realised they were the only thing apart from the bracelets—and how Loki must hate those—he had from Asgard.

* * *

Loki was aloof. There were times when he spaced out and his eyes got an unfocused, lost look.

He never said anything about it.

* * *

He didn't eat meat. Ever. Thor said that hadn't been the case before.

* * *

He was, without a doubt, used to looking after himself. Used to coping on his own.

* * *

Most of the time, he wore his hair down. But he tied it in a ponytail after Tony mentioned he liked it that way as well.

* * *

He allowed Tony's touches; a light kiss here, and embrace there. But if, by some coincidence, the billionaire managed to surprise him, or if he moved to fast, Loki would jerk away, only leaning into the touch after he'd regain control over his body's instincts. Tony caught his scowling a couple of times right after that, as if he were trying to put together pieces that just wouldn't fit. But he never asked.

Perhaps he should have.

* * *

Loki liked the cats, and they absolutely adored him. When Tony realised he might lose their loyalty, it was probably already too late. Still, Loki always insisted they belonged to Tony.

* * *

When it came to work, he was professional.

* * *

Somehow, he managed to get pink dye into Thor's shampoo. Tony had to replace a door or two, but seeing Loki laugh made it more than worth it.

* * *

Loki was polite but distant when it came to Pepper.

He pretended Bruce wasn't there at all.

* * *

His music taste had to do with the word classic. Classical music. Classic rock.

* * *

Jarvis liked him. How that happened was a mystery.

* * *

He seemed to be doing okay. And while Tony was aware that more than two and a half years had passed since his torture, there were other things that had happened much later. His going crazy. Their meeting in DC. The confrontation with Thanos.

But Loki seemed fine, and Tony didn't know whether that should make him worried or envious.

He supposed it was a god thing.

* * *

A/N: Pfff ... I hate not being able to put *** between paragraphs ...

I'm sure you want to see shit hit the fan as soon as possible, right? Yes? Well ... reviews might just help a little ...*wink, wink*


	16. Chapter 16: February 10

A/N: I'm so sorry for the long wait and even more that I can't promise you next chapter will be up much faster. It might be, but I'll make no promises. Real life's been awfully demanding lately. But hey, this is the longerst chapter yet ^^

I don't know much about comics, so please forgive me any very dumb mistakes. Also, thank you all for reviewing, following, or reading, and thank you, Blaze221B, for proofreading.

I listened to Two Steps from Hell—Aesir and Two Steps from Hell—Eternal Sorrow (when things slow down) for part VI, and then to 2Cellos—Fragile, Damien Rice—Don't Explain, Damien Rice—Uncomfortable, and Two Steps from Hell—Darkness for parts VII, VIII, and IX.

* * *

**February 10****th**

_And all this leaves me_

_Curled and gasping on_

_The bedroom floor,_

_Hurting for your sake_

_In a wordless knot_

_Of tears and grief_

_I never, ever_

_Expected_

_To feel._

_~Elizabeth Vongvisith: The Price_

Tony poured the last of the scotch down his throat, then flung the empty tumbler at the wall. It shattered, pieces falling down like crystal rain, and Tony growled helplessly.

Charity concert his ass. He'd never even made it anywhere near the theatre. At first he'd thought he would. Then he'd hoped he would. Now he didn't give a damn about it.

_Shit._

He rubbed his forehead.

There had to be _something_ he could do. Anything.

Why couldn't his life be normal for once? After the day had started so well, why had things gone south so fast?

* * *

It was Pepper who answered the phone. Tony was much too busy playing with his Rubik's Cube, and Loki was sprawled all over the couch, legs hanging over the armrest, trying to pet both cats at the same time, which was not at all easy, seeing as they both wanted to lie on his stomach and kept pushing each other off. The image made Tony smile. More importantly, it made Loki smile too.

"Agent Romanoff … Yes, yes he is."

Tony pricked his ears.

"Okay … I understand … I'll let them know. Bye."

"You'll let who know what?"

"I'll let _you_" – she put the phone down – "know there is a bunch of doobots? Dumbots?— "

"Doombots."

"—flying around Manhattan. You're to tell Bruce and Thor. Fury wants you at Rockefeller plaza as soon as possible."

"Oh joy," Tony grumbled with mock enthusiasm. "Jarvis, tell Pikachu and Shrek about this."

He knew about Doom and his robots, all the Avengers did, although they hadn't fought them before. Defeating heaps of flying metal shouldn't be too hard, right?

He rose to his feet.

Except …

Tony's gaze wandered to Pepper, then back to Loki, who also stood up. And that was surely not a wave of protectiveness he just felt, most certainly not. Adrenalin. Or a little worry, that he would admit, but protectiveness—no.

"You don't have magic," he said.

Loki's eyes flashed with determination. "Exactly."

A valid point. But anyone could get hurt in a fight, and Tony would have to fight as a part of the Avengers, not an I've-got-your-back person to Loki. And there was Pepper to consider. Tony's eyes travelled from Loki to her and back again. His lips parted.

"Don't." The Trickster narrowed his eyes.

Tony frowned. "I wasn't about to patronize you. You'll do what you want anyway. Besides, you're a capable fighter. If you want a gun or something, I'll get it for you"—Loki's gaze softened a little—"okay? It's Pepper I'm worried about."

How was that again, an omission doesn't equal a lie?

"Tony." Her hands rested on her hips. "I can take care of myself. You go and save the day."

"I know you can. It's just …" Those damn robots had magic, and human bodies were so fragile. Pepper had been endangered because of him in the past. Rodey too. His friends were his weakness, it didn't take a mastermind to figure that out.

"I'll stay with her."

Both humans turned to look at the god.

"Loki …"

"Stark," he replied. His tone allowed no objection. Tony was sure Loki had seen right through his masks to that treacherous core that really didn't want the Trickster to fight. Tony could only hope he didn't resent it.

"You don't have to." Pepper finally let her hands fall.

"I know," Loki said simply.

Tony was just about to reach for him when the elevator door slid open and Bruce and Thor (in full battle armour and Mjolnir in his hand) entered the room.

"Friend Stark. Your Voice told us there is an emergency."

"So to say. Jarvis, prepare Mark VIII, daddy's gotta kick some butt."

Loki rolled his eyes at that. Thor seemed to have just realised his not-brother was there. His hands would have found their way to Loki's shoulders, had the Trickster not stepped away. Thor's expression fell.

"Brother …"

Loki pressed his lips together.

"Are you coming with us to fight?"

"No." He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I have other things to do."

"But you said …"

"Shut up."

Thor's kicked-puppy look was the second best Tony had ever seen (naturally Loki got the first place). He placed a hand on the Thunderer's shoulder.

"Come on. There are Doom-clones waiting to get kicked."

* * *

Clint, Natasha, and Steve were already there. Coulson was standing beside them, and it was he to whom Tony turned for information.

"What's the situation?"

"Hard to tell. The bots don't seem to have any particular target. They keep wracking havoc at random."

Tony shrugged as best he could in the suit. "Well, it would have been too easy if they weren't."

"Always looking on the bright side?" Clint filled the empty spot beside him.

"Nope. Sometimes it's all about the dark one."

"Riiight."

"We need a plan." Steve interrupted.

"We're all ears, Captain Plan."

Steve chose to ignore the comment. "Tony, Thor, I want you up in the air. Tony, you cover Natasha and Clint, Thor will do the same for me. Bruce, don't stray too far away from us. Everyone okay with this?"

They nodded and hummed in affirmation.

"We'll have to hunt them down," added Natasha.

"What about Doom?"

Coulson shook his head. "His location is yet unknown. He might be among them, he might be home in Latveria."

Latveria. Tony rooted for Latveria. The last thing he wanted right now was a doombot who could actually think outside of how he'd been programmed.

Shrieks of civilians reached their little group. Coulson frowned just the slightest (Tony was still trying to figure out how exactly he'd won Pepper over what with his lack of expressions).

"Do your job," he said, voice full of authority. "Keep your coms on."

There was another round of shrieks. People ran, and Tony spotted two doombots on the other side of the plaza. He aimed, fired …

The game was on.

* * *

For inanimate heaps of metal, doombots could cause a lot of trouble. Tony was sick and tired of them in twenty minutes. Their stupid metal faces, stupid electricity attacks, stupid lightning. Stupid robots and stupid Doom. What was the purpose of all this anyway?

For a moment his guts tightened as he thought of Pepper and Loki. But Loki could fight, and Jarvis would protect the tower _and_ let Tony know. Also, for Doom to have any use of Pepper he would have to have a plan, and this randomness was anything but a plan.

Tony blasted a nearby bot away and avoided the attack of another one.

"Little help here, Stark?" Clint.

Tony turned to look down. The master-assassins-couple was surrounded by four doombots; the situation didn't seem too promising for them. Cursing, Tony descended towards them …

"Sir, incoming call from Ms Potts."

Tony froze in midair.

"Put her through!"

A second of silence, then …

"Tony!"

His blood went cold with dread. Pepper's voice was too weak, too strained, and panic flared in his guts.

"Pepper?!" Somehow he managed to blast his repulsors at an approaching doombot. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"You have to … come … here … A trick …"

"_What_?" Tony didn't care one bit that he was shouting. The others couldn't hear him right now anyway.

"Doom's got …"

Her breathing, loud and heavy, filled Tony's ears.

"Yes? What's with Doom? Pepper, listen to me? What happened?"

"Lo … ki …"

"_What_?"

_No no no no nononono!_

"Pepper!"

The only sound he heard was a weak moan.

"_Pepper! PEPPER!"_

No. Fuck no. This wasn't happening. What had Doom done to Pepper? And Loki?

_Doom's got Loki._

Shit. Shit! He'd _kidnapped_ Loki?

"Stark, we need help here!"

What if he got tortured, what if he got raped again, what if … what if …

Tony's chest burned with pain. It was his fault. Doom must have gone after something of Tony's, and fuck, no! If he'd taken _anything_ else it wouldn't have hurt so bad! Because … Because _Loki_ …

_Why?!_

"Stark, are you listening?"

"Stark?"

"Watch out!"

"_Stark!_"

He barely had the time to turn and see a doombot grab his neck before electricity set his nerves on fire and blinding light turned to darkness.

_Loki …_

* * *

During the years he'd come to acknowledge waking up was one of those unpleasant things that simply couldn't be avoided. A necessary evil. Still, it was probably the best kind of necessary evil there was.

His head felt like somebody let 4th-July-fireworks explode inside it, and a groan was out of his mouth before he could decide against it.

Why was his body one big ache again?

"He's coming to, sir," said a soft voice not too far away.

Coming to? Coming to? He had not been—

Tony's eyes snapped open, heartbeat going wild.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Where am I?" he demanded, bolting uprights and finding himself staring into a pair of unfamiliar, shocked brown eyes. The nurse staggered back a couple of steps. She parted her lips to speak, but it wasn't her voice that answered.

"In a hospital."

"You are aware I have perfectly functioning medical facilities in the tower."

"Don't tell that to me," Steve said back. "Coulson made the call. Bruce was still in his other form and needed to fight, and he wanted you to get professional treatment."

"You are lucky to have woken up so soon," the nurse added.

The muscles in his gut tightened.

"Yeah? What is soon?"

"Two hours."

Two hours.

Pepper.

Loki.

_Loki._

Before anyone could stop him, he ripped the IV out of his arm and hauled his legs over the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"I need a phone and clothes and my suit, Captain Plan, and I need them now."

"Tony? What?"

"Now!"

His heart was hammering against his ribs. Couldn't Steve see this was no time for questions?

"Tony!"

Apparently not.

"Doom got into the tower. Pepper's hurt, Loki's gone, get me the fucking suit _now_!"

He pushed to his feet, ignoring the way his body protested, and made a beeline for the door. Steve was at his side immediately, placing a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Tony, stay here. You don't even know where your things are. Monica, would you be so kind as to bring him his clothes? And call the other Avengers," he addressed the nurse.

"ASAP," Tony snapped, glowering so badly the poor woman practically ran out of the room. He couldn't care less. The two people that meant the most to him were hurt, possibly worse. He had to get to them. Pepper first, to hear what happened (he refused to think she might not be in a state to tell him), and then Loki, and _nothing_ would stop him.

"Here." Steve stuck a Starkphone out to him. "You can use mine."

"Thanks. The others are here?"

Tony dialled Pepper's number.

"In the waiting room. The fight ended soon after you got hit; the bots simply left."

"Hm."

_Because Doom got what he wanted._

Tony listened to the agonizing sound of ringing. Nothing.

His free hand closed into a fist. He forced his palm to unclench again.

Nothing.

If Pepper was dead …

The weak 'yes' he heard then caused a wave of relief to wash over him.

"Pepper. Oh gods, Pepper."

"Tony …"

"You're alive."

"I fainted …" her voice was still unsteady.

The door opened. The nurse returned, Tony's team spilling into the room after her.

"Hang in there. I'll come over as soon as I can, okay?"

"Okay …"

"You'll be fine," he assured her. It was most likely the truth; if she'd woken up, she was probably out of danger. If it wasn't … Well, Tony needed something to hold on to at the moment. He wanted to keep talking to her just to be sure she was okay, but the team was waiting and he had some explaining to do, so he hung up with a heavy heart.

"What's the urgency?" Clint.

"Stark tower." Tony began changing. He hated hospital gowns. "I'm guessing Doom managed to mess Jarvis up since I got no warning. Anyway, he got in, Pepper's hurt, Loki's missing."

Thor's brow furrowed. "My brother is missing?"

"Yeah, Doom took him. My suit?"

"Um …"

"Yes?"

Steve looked damn uncomfortable. "It's in pieces. We didn't know how to get you out of it."

"You cut my suit?!" Hell, if he didn't have something more important to do … "Somebody get a fucking car then! Better still, Thor, fly me to the tower!"

"Tony, you need to calm down." Bruce placed a hand on his biceps.

_Don't tell me to calm the hell down! My lover could be tortured as we speak!_

He took a couple of deep breaths nevertheless.

"Okay. Okay. Fine. We're going by car."

"You're not driving," Natasha said, firm as steel.

Tony didn't object. Ignoring the nurse's protests, they walked right out of the hospital. Tony may or may not have flipped a doctor off in the process. He was pretty sure neither Pepper nor Loki had that in mind when they talked about making a public appearance.

He kept clenching and unclenching his fists.

"Pepper will be fine," said Steve, walking next to him. "You talked to her minutes ago. She'll be all right."

"Yeah, sure." Tony's fingers were already at work, bringing his phone to life. "Jarvis?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Give me the footage from the tower."

"A moment, sir."

Natasha led them to a SHIELD van, standing in the parking lot. Tony climbed onto the backseats. Bruce joined him a second later.

"It seems, sir, that the system has been compromised."

"Well, why didn't you tell me?"

"I did not notice, sir."

"How did you not—ah, forget it." He buried his face into his palms and sighed. "Can you repair the damage?"

"I'm on it, sir."

"Good boy," Tony muttered. Was he a magnet for trouble, or was it Loki, and if he was, then was Tony trouble too, because he was inevitably drawn to the god?

He turned to Bruce.

"What are the chances I'll make it to the concert?"

"You still have seven hours."

Seven. First he had to find Loki, then get him back, kicking Doom's ass in the process, then … Well, didn't seem likely he'd make it. Especially judging by how _long_ one stupid ride could take.

He'd probably run into the tower on one occasion or another before, but he really couldn't remember. Luckily Jarvis had only been messed with in the upper floors and the elevator had been left alone. Bruce attempted to calm him down and make him stop pacing in the little steel cube. He wasn't very successful, though. Tony burst through the doors as soon as they opened; taking in the destruction his lounge room had suffered.

Puddles of water covered the floor. A couple of rifts created a new pattern on the tiles. Furniture lay around, broken, torn, the couches damaged beyond repair. In the midst of it all were three doombots, unmoving. The air would probably have stunk of burnt leather if it hadn't been for a large hole in the glass-wall. Pepper was half sitting against the wall, pale and bruised, but her eyes lit up when they met Tony's.

"Shit."

The billionaire rushed to his friend and squatted next to her. His eyes widened; the fabric of her shirt was stained with blood on her right shoulder.

"Are you okay? Pep?"

She smiled weakly. "I think it stopped bleeding. I'm not gonna die."

"Gods, Pepper …" Tony exhaled, pulling her close but let go when she winced. "Sorry. Bruce, buddy, can you take a look at Pepper?"

The doctor nodded. He took Tony's place at her side while the inventor rose again. Steve filled the space next to him. Thor remained a little further away.

"What the fuck happened here?" Clint pulled a kitchen knife out of the wall.

Tony looked back at Pepper, who was back on her feet, supported by Bruce. Wordlessly she extended her hand towards Tony. The latter opened his palm, and she dropped a phone onto it. A Starkphone.

Loki's Starkphone.

"He fought," Pepper said quietly.

Tony swallowed. He placed Pepper's now free arm over his shoulders and helped Bruce walk her into the kitchen where there were still functional chairs left. His grip on the phone was tight. Too tight. If Loki'd had his phone with him, finding him would be easy.

The Avengers gathered around the kitchen table. Bruce placed a wet cloth against a bump on the back of Pepper's head.

"You sure you're okay? Bruce can take a look at you before we do the talking."

Pepper smiled, and for some reason it broke Tony's heart, because there was so much understanding in that smile, so much knowledge, like she was perfectly aware what fear for Loki was doing to his insides.

"I'm fine. I just hit my head. Well, I got hit, but that's details."

Tony swallowed. "Somebody call Agent," he said, angry at his voice for failing to sound stronger.

Nodding, Clint stood up and disappeared out of the room.

"Tell us what happened," Steve softly urged Pepper.

Her brow furrowed slightly. She fixed her gaze on Tony, and the latter knew; although they were all listening, she was telling the story to him. "Loki left to feed the cats. That was when Doom managed to get in. He wanted your plans. I refused, but he had his … his robots, and … Loki appeared. He was clever, Tony, so clever. Doom ended up believing I would be useless to him as I know nothing about your inventions, but Loki …

"There were too many robots. Doom dragged him away."

Damn. Tony could practically see it, Loki in a battle stance, determined to fight against all odds. Like that time with the bilgesnipe. But then Tony's mind produced an image of Loki lying in a puddle of blood, and his throat closed up.

"And the water?" he asked, because he had to say something.

"Smoke sensors."

"Ah." Clever, indeed. But what else was to be expected?

"My brother fought to protect you?"

Pepper raised her eyebrows at Thor. "Well, yes."

"I'm glad. There might still be hope for him."

Might? Tony hoped Thor had chosen that particular word only because it sounded fancier than 'is'.

"How _is_ living with that … guy?" Clint asked from the door, phone still in his hand.

Wonderful. If only there weren't those silent, invisible walls surrounding him at all times …

Tony waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, nothing special. Thor spent two days going around with pink hair, that's all."

"He's civil," Bruce added. Pepper gave a short nod.

"No mind control tricks then. That's surprising."

Thor's expression darkened. "Watch how you speak." To Tony he said, "If this Doom has my brother in custody, we should find him."

Tony nodded. The edges of Loki's Starkphone were cutting red lines into his palm.

"Can you do that, friend Stark?"

"Jarvis? Have you fixed the systems?"

"I was temporary blocked, not destroyed, sir. But you will have to do some programming yourself."

Well, shit. Time was important.

He pushed to his feet. "If you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." He was just about to leave when Pepper caught his sleeve.

"How are you going to do that?"

Tony patted her arm, trying to smile. "Give me a little credit, will you?"

"Twelve per cent of credit."

"That's not funny anymore."

"It never was."

"Go ahead, rub it in. I'll just take my twelve per cent then and do the job. Agent should be here soon, okay?"

Her lips quirked. "I'll give you fifteen per cent."

"Wow. Thank you." If only he felt like laughing now. His lips refused to form anything that could, in the right circumstances, resemble a smile. So he pressed them together, shifted the phone to his other hand, and walked down to his workshop, basically a floor between the floors. He set the Starkphone on the desk before his fingers brought holograms to life.

First he had to fix Jarvis.

Then he had to use what little information he'd gathered from the scan of Loki's bracelets that one time the god had allowed him to scan them. It hadn't been easy to convince him, and Tony hated the pain those damn things helped bring to Loki's eyes, but he was so, so glad he'd done it.

He'd just about finished the programming part when the sound of footsteps penetrated his science-hijacked mind.

"I thought I'd check on you." Bruce stopped next to him. "Coulson's with Pepper. She'll be fine. Lumi came out of her hiding place."

"Did she?"

"Mhm." Bruce found a free chair and dragged it to the desk. "What's the plan?"

"This."

Tony made a sweeping gesture that sent images flying into the air. Graphs and numbers filled their vision field. The scan results.

Bruce wrinkled his brow. "And this is …?"

"Magic. Or better, the radiation magic causes. In this case, our way to find Loki. I scanned his bracelets," Tony added when he saw the other's questioning look. The look didn't disappear, though.

"He let you do that?"

Tony shrugged. "Well, yeah. It's for science, science is for greater good, ergo …"

And Tony had asked so nicely.

"All right." Bruce sighed. "So we need to trace the radiation? How will you gain access to the satellites and spectrometers?"

"Hacking into SHIELD's systems shouldn't be too hard."

"And if they get you?"

"Big deal. I could ask Fury, and he'd give me access anyway, because it's better for everyone if we know where Loki is." Like he'd care even if Fury refused. "But that would take too much time, something we've already wasted enough of. How's Thor? How's everyone?"

"They're all right." Bruce pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Why are you asking?"

"I don't know." Tony's fingers danced over the holograms. Talking was easier. When he talked, he didn't have to listen to his own thoughts. Because, if he'd admit it or not, some of them terrified him.

Working helped. Always had, probably always would. But he couldn't push the ticking of an imaginary clock out of his mind. By the time he nearly screamed out of relief only four and a half hours were separating him from the concert.

"Finally!"

_Yes, yes, yes!_

"Let's go tell the others, and then we're off."

Getting up too fast, he almost stumbled over his own chair. A curse slipped off his tongue, but who cared. He entered the elevator with Bruce, headed to the longue room on the guest-floor. Thor and Steve were the only ones present. Not that that could stop Tony.

"I found Loki," he announced. "Seems like Doom decided to do a little vacation in Virginia."

"That is good news," Steve said.

"Yeah. Easier to get there than to Latveria."

Thor frowned. "Where are these places?"

"Latveria's in Europe. Virginia's not."

"Awesome explanation," Tony heard Natasha say from behind him. "It's southwest from here."

"Not too far," Clint added.

"Let us go then, my friends!"

Thor got a couple of nods. Tony leaned towards Steve. "Coulson's informed?"

"Of course. It seems to be the general opinion that knowing Loki's whereabouts is in everybody's interest, and keeping an eye on him even more so."

For various reasons, of course, but in this case it was the result that mattered. Although it did hurt Tony a little, knowing he and Thor were the only ones who wanted to find Loki because of Loki, not themselves.

On the other hand, he was very, very glad he owned a helicopter that could get them to a place where a quinjet waited for them.

* * *

The building was utterly unimpressive. It stood in the middle of nowhere, and the whiteness of its walls was in stark contrast with the meadows and patches of forest surrounding it.

Clint landed the quinjet on a nearby clearing. Tony didn't give a damn about subtlety; he was willing to blast the whole building to the sky if necessary (and maybe even if it wasn't). They still made the last bit of distance on foot, except for Bruce, who'd stayed behind on the plane. Not that unleashing the Hulk on Doom wouldn't be satisfying, but they'd be caught in a closed space, and as much as Bruce was getting better and better at controlling the Hulk, their heath could still be jeopardised. Safety first, or so the saying went. Well, whoever had come up with that had clearly never met Loki.

At least they all agreed sneaking in would serve no real purpose.

They stopped several yards away. It was too quiet for Tony's liking.

"Shouldn't he have some sort of protection?" Steve voiced the billionaire's concern.

Clint opened his mouth, but half a dozen doombots appearing over the rooftop was enough of an answer.

Steve frowned.

"I suggest we split. Thor, Tony, you two blast your way in. Bruce, could you join us here? It seems we'll be fighting outside as well."

"Just a moment," the scientist said.

"Take your time." Natasha aimed her gun at the approaching doombots and fired. "You two, go. The sooner we can return home the better."

Tony shared a quick look with Thor. Those blue eyes looked surprisingly grim, but no less determined, and he nodded once. Without further hesitation, they shot into the air, manoeuvring their way past the doombots (shooting at them might have helped a little). Thor decided they would enter through the nearest wall before Tony even had a chance to protest. Not that he wanted to. Mjolnir broke its way inside with ease, the two Avengers following.

At least it didn't look like a normal house inside. The rooms were empty. An iron hand (hah, iron) squeezed Tony's heart. Jarvis couldn't have been wrong, right?

Then he mentally berated himself. Of course not. The doombots were here. If there was nothing above the ground, there had to be something under it.

He was right. The doors leading underground were mechanic and heavily reinforced. Two doombots stood watch over them, but they didn't last long; electricity was a perfect way to destroy them, and Thor wasn't in a very good mood right now. While the Thunderer was at it, Tony had Jarvis take care of the doors. His A. I. was brilliant. Oh, right, Jarvis was his creation. Well then.

What opened before them was way too similar to SHIELD's facilities for Tony's liking. Corridors, labs, doors.

How had Doom even had this built? Creating an underground base _couldn't _go unnoticed. It just couldn't.

"Jarvis," Tony said. "Find Loki."

"On it, sir. You'll have to descend two more levels."

"Okay. But seriously. How _did _that guy have all this built_?"_

"I do not know," Thor replied.

"Yeah, I wasn't really asking. Maybe I should tell Fury. If having a supervillain lair built under his nose doesn't make him furious, then I don't know what will."

Oh, maybe Tony's … involvement with Loki would. But Fury didn't need to know about that.

They kept walking in silence for a while, only interrupted by Jarvis's giving directions.

"I though this Man of Doom would try to defend his fortress."

"Lair, Pikachu. But you're right, this is suspicious." Almost like Doom wanted them to get in … Was he planning to bargain? Blackmail them?

The feeling of unease in Tony's gut escalated. He was almost afraid to see Loki again. Who knew what state he'd be in. And if the god was hurt, Tony would _not_ be held responsible for processing Doom-flavoured meatballs.

Jarvis's instructions brought them into a hall the size of a high school gym and filled with … things. Machines. Half built robots. Workbenches. Computers.

A giant lab.

"Anthony Stark," said a disembodied voice. "Welcome. I was wondering if you'd come."

"Well, now you know."

Why couldn't the coward just show his face? Or mask. Mask would work.

"Truly. Here to protect your secret, I take it?" A low chuckle followed, along with two footfalls. Doom came forward. Loki walked at his side, wearing a surprisingly smug expression. Even though he seemed unhurt, the alarms in Tony's head blared.

"Like that's any of your business," he barked. "Let him go."

Doom chuckled again. Tony hated the sound.

"How noble. You see, Luke here was looking forward to your arrival so much. We both were. But we'll be even happier to see you go, because you'll be carried out in pieces."

"What?"

What the hell was Doom talking about? What did he mean Loki was looking forward to that?

"You seem shocked, Stark. Worry not, your death will be quick."

"I thought you wanted my designs."

Doom laughed again, and this time it sent shivers down Tony's spine. That was the evil laughter if he'd ever heard one.

"Oh, I've got your designs! You don't treat your employees very well. Luke was quite happy to betray you."

_What_?

"Brother!" Thor cried out.

"I am _not. _Your brother."

"How could you? Friend Stark has done so much for you!"

Loki snorted, _and no no no no nonono, what was going on, this couldn't be real this wasn't happening Lokicouldn'thavedonesomethinglikethatwh yyyy—_

Okay.

Breathe in, breathe out.

_Think._

"Jarvis." Tony found his voice somehow. "Has Loki ever seen the missile plans?"

"No, sir."

No. So that meant …

"Thor," Tony murmured into the com. "Loki's bluffing. He doesn't know the designs."

Thor's brow furrowed. Tony was afraid the Thunderer would do something stupid now, but Doom never gave him a chance.

"I shall enjoy watching that," he said and turned. But when he took the first step, Loki, who'd been slowly moving towards the nearest workbench, jumped forward and brought a massive steel rod he'd grabbed down on Doom's head. Doom staggered and fell but quickly rolled over and shot at Loki, who barely dodged the beam.

Tony didn't need any further encouragement. A blast from his repulsors hit Doom in the side, throwing him onto some machine; metal groaned and broke under the force. Thor was on Doom a heartbeat later. Sadly he wasn't the only one to join the fight; a dozen doombots formed an approximate circle around them.

It was going to be so much _fun_ destroying them.

They were troublesome opponents, but Tony and Thor were fuelled by anger, and Loki was very inventive when it came to makeshift weapons, and the fight that broke out was brutal.

"You're going to pay for this," Doom hissed at Loki at some point. Tony unleashed his uni-beam at him.

"No. _You're_ going to pay for this."

"You're … outnumbered." Doom pushed to his feet.

"We have backup. You're familiar with the Hulk? Yeah? Good."

His next attack was a simple punch in the face, but it felt so very good.

They were winning. Steve and the others were on their way in, and Doom seemed to realise that. Behind that mask had to be an angry expression (that Tony wanted to punch again). Naturally, the inventor didn't feel too relaxed when he heard Doom chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, you think you've won? You will not leave this place alive."

"Yeah? Think again."

"I already have."

Okay, that was disturbing. Especially since Doom slipped out of Tony's sight only moments later. Was he sending in more robots? A stronger one?

A blast hit him in the chest and threw him back, back, back until he managed to regain control of his flight. His eyes narrowed. There, that was the doombot who'd shot him. Tony raised his arm, aimed—

And the doombot exploded.

Self-destruction. Of course.

"Get out of here!" Tony yelled to both gods. They turned almost simultaneously, trying to find him with their gazes.

Explosions erupted everywhere.

Tony screamed one last warning before a wave of air threw him backwards and his back hit the hall-doors painfully. He saw Thor throw himself towards Loki, then another blast slammed his body against the wall yet again, and staying awake became so hard. People were shouting through the coms, and Tony thought he heard Hulk's roar somewhere.

Orange was such an annoying colour … He waited for blackness, but it would not come. His body was heavy, the scene unfolding before him only partly registered. Debris rained. Concrete fell. Jarvis was saying something …

The last time he hadn't understood what his A.I. was telling him hadn't ended too well, had it …?

"If this is about Loki," he slurred, "don't expect me to know anything you've said right now …"

This time he definitely heard the Hulk. Suddenly he was hauled off the ground. There was another whirl of colours, first grey and then green and finally blue. He felt fresh air fill his lungs. It tasted so good compared to … that thing he'd been breathing in.

Natasha was leaning over him.

"Stark, are you with me?"

"I thought you were with Clint," he muttered.

"That's it, you're fine."

There was still this irritating throbbing in his head, and his lungs burned from the smoke he'd breathed in, but his vision and his mind were clearer. He even managed to sit up, which wasn't at all easy in the suit.

Approximately in that moment, the Hulk landed nearby, with a figure under each arm. Grunting something, he dumped them pretty unceremoniously.

_Loki._

Gritting his teeth, Tony forced himself to get up. He swayed a little.

_Loki._

The Hulk began shrinking, but he was hardly the centre of attention. Steve, both assassins, and Tony gathered around the two gods. Their clothes were dark from the fire and smoke, burnt in some places, revealing reddened skin. Thor's eyes were opened, his face somewhat twisted with pain; it wasn't hard to notice his right arm was hanging at a very unnatural angle. His leg was bleeding badly.

And Loki … Loki was unconscious. None of his bones appeared to be broken, but Tony might have been wrong. Not that he paid them a lot of attention. His eyes were immediately pulled to the gods face. Or what little of his face could be seen under all that blood. The upper part was certainly a crimson mess.

"Brother." Thor managed to push himself into a sitting position and shake the other god. There was no reaction.

"Oh." His eyes slid to Mjolnir lying next to him, and filled with guilt. "I might have … accidently hit him," he muttered, as if apologizing to the team.

"Accidently being the key word here," said Bruce, who'd just finished pulling on the extra pair of pants Steve had carried with him for exactly that purpose.

Tony managed to nod.

He would find Doom and dig out his eyes.

Then, Bruce's professional side kicked in. "Clint, bring the quinjet. Thor, I'll need your cape, and any piece of clothing anyone can spare. Steve, Natasha, you'll help me. Tony, take it easy and keep on the lookout. There might be some functional doombots left."

Tony was aware he did a pretty lousy job. It was difficult to tear his eyes away from Loki. Bruce checked him for wounds first, then bandaged Thor's leg and reset his shoulder, and turned his attention back to Loki after that, cleaning and wrapping the upper part of his face with makeshift bandages. Nobody really noticed Tony's gaze was turned in the wrong direction, probably because no doombots appeared. Perhaps it was because they were busy, and then Clint arrived anyway and they were busy again, this time getting the gods on the plane (Thor very stubbornly insisted he walk alone. Well, until he nearly fell. He accepted Steve's help after that).

Tony put the armour-suitcase on the ground and half fell into his seat. Bruce lowered himself down next to him, sighing.

"What happened down there?" he asked.

"Loki hit Doom with a steel rod."

"And?"

"And what? Oh, right. We fought. Doom realised he'd lose and threw his clone-army in the air."

"Didn't he want your designs?"

"Yeah, but he thinks he got them. At least … At least I hope he only thinks he got them."

What if Loki had somehow got his hands on the files after all? But he wouldn't betray Tony, would he? He must have lied to Doom. Surely. He must have.

"What do you mean he thinks?"

Tony shrugged. "He said Loki'd drawn them for him. Jarvis says Loki never saw the designs, so I'm pretty sure he lied to Doom. Buying time or so."

"Until Thor saved him. Loki should be grateful he has Thor to look after him."

Tony pouted mentally. What about him, hm?

"I suppose so," he said and stretched his arms. "Man, I hate smoke."

"Your lungs feeling okay?"

"Yeah." Tony's gaze landed on Loki, who was lying on the bench across the one Tony and Bruce were sitting on. "I'm fine."

But Loki wasn't.

* * *

Tony had emptied his medical bay, ensuring the gods and Bruce enough space and privacy. The latter properly treated Thor's wounds, stitching the one on his leg, while Tony watched the Thunderer flex his fists, for he'd refused any anaesthesia like the brave warrior he was (Tony mentally snorted). After that, the doctor told him he was free to leave, and Thor … Well. His resisting the idea of being separated from Loki surprised absolutely no one.

"There is nothing you can do for Loki now," Bruce reminded him.

"I do not wish to leave my brother alone. I would want to see him at my bedside were I in his position."

He clearly had no idea whatsoever about what Loki thought or wanted. Tony didn't know whether that annoyed or saddened him.

"Yeah, well," he said, peeking at Bruce's hands, which were busy cleaning Loki's face, "I don't think he'll see anything when he wakes up. 'm I right, Shrek?"

Bruce threw a bloody cotton pad away. "Yes … His eyes are … ruined."

That didn't seem to discourage Thor. "They'll heal."

"I suppose I'll have to take your word for that. However, no human would ever see again after such an injury."

"Loki isn't mortal."

"Human," Tony corrected automatically. Gods or no gods, they could die.

Thor gave him a confused look. "That is what I said."

Tony opened his mouth, but Bruce interrupted him.

"Can you give me a hand here? Hold this, will you?"

"Mmhm. Hey, Blondie, why don't you go tell Jane all about our lovely escapade? I'm sure she'd love to hear it. Plus you need some rest. Doesn't he Bruce?" Tony shot his friend a very eloquent look.

"Mm, yes, of course."

A second, two …

"You know, I think you're right, my friends! I shall talk to Jane on Skype. I really miss having her around …"

Tony knew he should probably care, but it was so hard right now. His lover was bleeding in front of him and he couldn't even hold his hand, damn it!

"Have fun," he muttered and waved half-heartedly at Thor's retreating back. "Uff," he sighed when the door closed. "Is it wrong that he drives me crazy sometimes? I mean, he just doesn't get it."

Bruce only shrugged. He finished dressing Loki's wounds.

"I'll need your help again. I have to treat Loki's burns as well … I'll just get the salve …"

Oh god, that meant undressing Loki. The closest Tony had ever come to seeing the latter naked was – well, actually his wet dreams, but that didn't really count. The closest he'd come in reality was _that_ night. That he'd-thought-was-a-dream night.

Somehow, Tony doubted Loki would be pleased to find out he'd been undressed.

"All right. If you'd just …"

Loki stirred. His fingers twitched, a gesture that made Tony's guts tighten.

"I think he's waking up," he half-whispered.

Loki's hand moved a little before the muscles in it tensed.

"Yes. We should—"

His body suddenly gave a violent jerk. His mouth opened in a silent scream, his breathing grew erratic – Tony watched the shallow falls of his chest – his hands trembled. Scratch that, _he_ trembled. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Loki?" Tony reached for the other's shoulder. "Hey, calm down, you're—"

"Don't touch me!"

The moment his hand made contact Loki recoiled so abruptly it made Tony step away in shock.

"Loki? Hey, Loki, it's me, Tony, yeah?"

He tried to take hold of the gods hand this time, but Loki snatched it away immediately. He scrambled away in an attempt to put some distance between them and would have fallen off the bed had Bruce not grabbed his arms. As it was, the scientist pushed the screaming, trashing god back to the middle.

"Tony," he gasped. "Hold him down!"

"What? No!"

"Hold him down, or he'll hurt himself and us in the process!"

It felt like Bruce's words had completely skipped that one station called Tony's brain and went straight to his muscles. Without further hesitation, he grabbed Loki's wrists and pinned them down over his chest. His muscles protested; Loki was _strong_. He managed to push Tony away, but the billionaire took hold of his arms anew. Loki's whimpering didn't make it any easier for Tony, either. With every word (_don't touch me, please, please, _please_ don't touch me_) his heart broke a little more and breathing came a little harder. How was he supposed to hold Loki down when the latter was begging him to let him go?

Bruce appeared back by his side. He grabbed one of Loki's arms, forced it into a relatively straight position, and injected something into the crook of Loki's elbow. It took some time, but the Trickster's resistance weakened and then stopped, and his breathing gradually evened out.

Tony, though, felt like he was trying to fill his lungs with water instead of air. The ground had been pulled from under his feet, and now he was falling, falling somewhere. His guts turned into an icy knot.

"Shit," he breathed, his legs feeling like jelly. "Shit."

"Tony?"

He felt an arm close around his biceps.

"Are you all right?"

It hardly mattered. Loki wasn't. Tony wasn't completely sure what he's just seen save for the fact this had to be the raw aftermath of torture and abuse, but why now? Even Loki couldn't be that good an actor, and shit, what have they _done_ to him?

"No." He staggered backwards until his back hit a wall. Bruce let him slide to the ground. "I don't understand …"

"That was a panic attack if I ever saw one."

"I know. But …" Breathing was so hard, and there were so many thought in his head.

"Tony, what's wrong?" There was concern now. "It was just a panic attack, not a fatal disease."

"Yeah, I … I need to think."

"What is it?"

"Just … Just be _quiet_ for a second."

Okay. Okay. Suppose Loki's façade was that good. There had to be a reason it had broken now. Perhaps … Perhaps because he was safe now and could … No. Loki hadn't even registered his surroundings, it wasn't that. But there had to be a reason. _Something_ had to have been different. He'd been fine when fighting Doom …

His eyes.

That must have been the trigger for the memories. But the blindness could only have escalated their 'unpleasantness' somewhat. Nothing that was constantly there would have caused such terror. Unless …

Unless Loki actually _hadn't_ remembered.

"Of course …"

It made sense now. Loki hadn't just been putting on a show; he'd suppressed a bunch of terrifying experiences, probably rationalized the ones that remained, and used a whole lot of other defence mechanisms on top of that.

Or rather, _had_ used.

As much as Tony was familiar with torture, suppressing memories had never really been his thing. Channelling his pain into rage yes, but not that. Only, Loki might not have had any other choice if he'd wanted to get away with a semblance of sanity. Tony had got away and been brought back to the safety of his home. Loki had been sent to conquer a world, with a threat of more torture hanging over him. Weakness had been out of question; if he'd wanted to escape, he'd had to lock the pain away. Who knew what his time on Asgard had been like, and later it had probably been his stubborn will that kept him going. How was that again, you only realised how strong you are when being strong was the only option you had?

It also made sense why his replies had been so weird when Tony had tried to talk about the blowjob (gods, did that mean Loki hadn't even known why he'd thrown up?), or why he'd flinch away from sudden touches and look confused. His body had remembered even if Loki hadn't.

Tony tried to imagine how it must have felt for all that to come back … but couldn't.

It was all so very fucked up.

He buried his face in his hands. Why? Why?!

Hands on his shoulders brought him back to reality, and he found a pair of worried eyes staring at him.

"Of course what? Tony, would you talk to me?"

"It's fucked up," he managed.

Bruce shook him. "Get yourself together!"

The words felt like a slap in the face, hurting all the more because Bruce was right. Tony couldn't panic here, or fall apart, or whatever he'd been doing. He needed to get a grip, or else there was no way he could help Loki.

"Yeah." He ran his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath. "Okay. I think his defence mechanisms failed. The inability to see must have served as a trigger."

Bruce regarded him in silence for the next few seconds before his eyes slid to Loki.

"So this is the aftermath of …?"

"Bad things."

"I figured that much." _Thank you captain obvious_, remained unspoken.

Tony shrugged. "I don't really know the details. Loki let a couple of lines slip."

He was pretty sure Bruce had his suspicions (Gods of Lies did not let their words slip—except maybe when they thought the person they loved would use them and discard them like a dirty Kleenex—and Tony's reaction had been much too intense), but he didn't say anything, and for that, Tony was thankful. He hadn't actually lied. Loki had given the information on an impulse, and although Tony knew he'd been tortured and raped, that was where his knowledge ended. No details indeed.

"How long will the sedatives work?" he asked.

"Two hours or so. Maybe less, I don't know how his body will process it."

He sighed. What the hell should he do for two hours?

"We shouldn't have restrained him. Perhaps he would have calmed down."

"Tony, he would have hurt us."

"You don't know that," the billionaire objected.

"It was a valid concern."

True. Loki was a lot stronger than them. Come to think of … Shaking Tony off should have been easy for him. The inventor really didn't want to know what had been going on in Loki's head to weaken him so, especially considering that adrenaline should have made him even stronger.

"All right. But we'll try talking when he wakes again."

Bruce didn't object. "I have to treat his burns," he said instead, reaching for the salve and placing it on the bed. Tony grabbed his wrist.

"Yeah, I wouldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because he … Look, that's not a good idea." He found Bruce's gaze with his own. "Loki's a god, he'll heal. Besides, the burns aren't bad. But he just remembered a load of crap and … Trust me on this one. Please?"

The two men stared at each other in silence, Tony mentally willing Bruce to agree. If Loki woke up and found out somebody had undressed him and touched him all over no matter how good the intentions were, he'd freak out even worse. The situation was already bad enough.

"Okay." Bruce nodded. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Tony wanted to hope that, too. But the truth was he had no idea.

* * *

He scrubbed the sweat off his skin in the shower. Telling Pepper he wouldn't be attending the concert immediately set all of her alarms off. And then he told her what had happened, and she covered her mouth with her hands, and when Tony returned to the medical bay she accompanied him. It may have been useless, sitting by Loki's bedside, but Tony knew he wouldn't be able to focus on anything. Pepper was quietly telling stories from her college days. Tony kept his eyes on Loki's face. He didn't dare take his hand.

"… and there was some other time when he just kept staring at people and telling us how interesting we all were. Bethany laughed her ass off and—"

"How are you feeling?" Tony suddenly asked.

Pepper blinked. "Fine. I'm fine. Why are you asking?"

"This isn't fair of me. I always run to you with my problems and you just help me. What about your problems?"

"Tony … Has it ever occurred to you that talking to you like this helps me deal with the situation as well? I had enough time with Phil to recover from shock while you were rescuing Loki and I did my share of whining. Focusing on something else helps me, too, okay? I'm worried for you, and I want to help. I might even be beginning to tolerate Loki a little."

Tolerate. A little. Why did those words hurt so much?

"Tony?" Pepper cocked her head. "You know that was supposed to be a joke, right?"

"So … you already tolerate Loki?"

She rolled her eyes. "What do you _think_? Tony, you chose him. If you can trust the person who threw you out of the window, if you can love that person, what have I to say? I already punched him for doing that. Besides, he's nice when he wants to be, he does his job well, and he protected me from the creepiest robots I've ever seen without having any real weapons. I like him all right."

"Wait … You _punched_ Loki?"

Pepper smiled. "I did."

"You … punched Loki. And he let you."

"I daresay he cares about you enough."

Wait a second. "Oh, no. No. You did not talk to him about me. Please tell me you did not have the father-boyfriend conversation behind my back."

"I only told him I'll break every bone in his body if he's using you for some kind of devilish plan."

"He's not!"

"Of course he's not! Do you think I would have kept quiet all this time if I thought he was?"

"Well, no …"

But damn it, Tony could imagine Pepper threatening Loki way too easily.

"Thank you," he said, "for looking out for me. And for giving Loki a chance."

"You gave him one first."

Had he? He still didn't know what had made Loki fall for him or when. After all, he really hadn't been very nice to the god. But maybe … sometimes he had been. He'd offered help. Hospitality.

And he'd been the only one.

Maybe Pepper was right.

Loki's head lolled to a side, and Tony's attention was on him immediately. A bit more than an hour had passed, so either the movement had been unconscious, or Loki's body was much more resistant to sedatives. It wouldn't be too surprising.

"Loki?" he murmured. "Loki, can you hear me?"

The god's hand moved just the slightest. Tony's heartbeat escalated. What if Loki panicked again? What if he wouldn't listen? What if, what if, what if—no. Tony had to keep talking.

"It's me, babe. You're safe, okay? You're safe. At Stark tower. Please, don't panic, nobody will hurt you. You understand? Loki?"

The god didn't reply. His breathing was too fast and god, how Tony wanted to touch him. Loki's hands flew to his face, fingers exploring the bandages, and then the tips slipped under them, and Tony leaned forward to grab those pale wrists, tearing the hands away from the bandages.

"Loki, listen to me. You're safe. Thanos is dead. The Chitauri are far, far away, okay? You're with me. You're safe."

"I want to see. Why can't I see? Please, let me see."

The despair in his voice pushed stakes through Tony's heart. Loki sounded _broken_.

"Breathe, okay? Just … just try to breathe—"

"_Why can't I see?!_"

Shit …

"The explosions hurt your eyes. Thor said you'll heal, but for now your eyes are … well, destroyed."

The sound that came out of Loki's throat was a combination of a sob and something else, something terrible, and it broke Tony's heart all over again, like it hadn't been torn to shreds already. He felt cold through and through.

"I need to see. _Please._"

Shit.

Tony drew a deep breath. He noticed Pepper had slipped out of the room. He couldn't ask her for help.

What was he supposed to do?

"May I … May I hold your hand?"

Tony was sure Loki would stare at him had he been able to see. His thin lips were parted and trembling, and it took him a few seconds to respond. He gave a short nod. Tony placed his hand over Loki's. Slowly.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Darkness made you remember, didn't it?"

Another pitiful sob found its way out of Loki's throat, and Tony wondered whether a person could cry without having working eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated. "Is there something I can do? Anything?"

"I … I need to see. Please."

Loki rolled onto his side, pulling his knees to his chest. His fingers squeezed Tony's. Hard. His body trebled.

Tony's throat closed up.

What the hell had Thanos done to Loki?

"Babe …" he swallowed. Was there anything he could say to make help? Anything at all? "I love you," he murmured. "I'll take care of you, okay? You won't be alone. You're not alone. But I can't give you your sight back, I'm sorry."

That was, it seemed, the only thing he could promise.

Loki whimpered.

"Can you"—he squeezed his hand even tighter and Tony bit his lip in discomfort—"make me fall asleep again? Please?"

There was a burning sensation at the back of Tony's eyes. "Sure. I'll call Bruce, okay? Jarvis?"

"Dr Banner is already on the way, sir. Ms Potts has informed him."

"Thanks, Jarv."

Would Loki allow him to stroke his hair?

He muttered something unintelligible.

"Hm? What is it?"

"I want to see," he whispered.

"Oh, gods." Tony ran his free hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, babe. If there was anything I could do to make your eyes heal fasted, I'd do it, believe me."

The trickster's lips were pale and still trembling.

"I know," he whispered. "Thank you."

Tony couldn't reply; he was choking on that nothingness that filled his throat. But he squeezed Loki's hands back, and it hurt, it hurt so much, everything just fucking _hurt_.

"Tony?"

He didn't turn.

"You've got more sedatives, buddy?"

"Yes, sure, but … Yes."

Bruce walked to the other side of the room, rummaging through the drawers. Tony felt a hand on his shoulder, a familiar touch he had grown to cherish so much. Loki must have felt the presence too, but it was nowhere near calming to him; Tony saw his muscles tense.

"It's okay," he said. "Just Bruce and Pepper."

The tension dissipated a little, but the god stayed silent. He didn't say a word when Bruce asked him to extend his arm (and, shit, how his whole body tensed at the contact, like he was ready to make a run for it any second now), or when he sank further into the pillow, exhaling, when the doctor stepped away.

"That should be enough to knock him out for a couple of hours," the latter remarked. He could have addressed Loki just as well.

* * *

Tony remained sitting by the bed long after Loki had fallen asleep. Bruce had left (he still wasn't completely relaxed around the god, and who could blame him), but Pepper had stayed, filling the spot behind Tony. Her hand never left his shoulder. Tony's hand never left Loki's.

They didn't speak.

Tony didn't know about Pepper, but he for one wasn't thinking either. Some kind of numbness had enveloped him like the softest blanket, creating a warm, safe environment. He was, on some deeper level, aware he'd have to leave, but at the moment the outer world felt too cruel.

Jarvis's voice that filled the silence without a warning nearly caused him a heart attack.

"Ms Potts, agent Coulson is looking for you."

The trance broken, Pepper moved.

"Tell him I'll meet him in the lounge room on the team floor."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Tony, get some rest." Her voice was sombre. "When did you last eat?"

Eat? In the morning, probably, but morning seemed ages away, so he might be mistaken.

"I'm not hungry."

"I know. Try to eat something anyway." Pepper sighed. "Phil's waiting for me."

"Yeah. Okay. Go."

Her hands squeezed his shoulder. "I'm sorry this happened. I really am starting to like Loki."

"Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me for that. Come on, get up."

Tony's gaze shifted from Loki's hand to his pale face. It was hard to tell with the bandages, but he looked peaceful in sleep. What a lie that was …

Pepper tugged at his arm.

"You need to move. Get some air. Something. Come on, Tony."

"All right."

He didn't move, though. The thought of food made his stomach turn. Air? What good would air do him now? If Loki awoke and panicked again …

No.

Jarvis had been created for a purpose.

Slowly Tony rose, tearing away first him hand then his gaze. Pepper looked tired, and he wondered whether he looked even worse. It would be so easy to find out. Only, looking into a mirror wasn't something he particularly wanted to do right now.

Screaming, on the other hand …

He needed a drink, and he had a feeling Pepper was completely aware the first thing he'd do when he stepped out of the elevator was fixing himself something strong. Still she didn't say a word. She looked at him briefly before she got out on the right floor, but that was all.

The burn scotch left in his throat was so much better than the one constantly present behind his eyes. Once again he found himself sitting in the darkness, staring at his penthouse. Waves of helplessness and rage born out of it washed over him in turns.

If only there was something he could do; sitting still had never felt so terrible before (and he wasn't a person who easily remained still, everyone who'd ever had to go through a meeting with him knew that. In fact, it was probably a part of common knowledge by now). But there was nothing. Nothing.

He squeezed the tumbler, poured the rest of the scotch down his throat, and flung it at the nearest wall, but the waterfall of glass gave him no satisfaction.

He hadn't been exactly fine when he'd come from Afghanistan. Scratch that, he'd been anything but fine. How many sleepless nights, how many empty bottles had marked that time … Meaningless one-night-stands. Nightmares. Pain. He hadn't dared to take a bath for far too long, and he still wasn't very comfortable with swimming.

He had the right to feel sorry for himself, because what had been done to him had been terrible and wrong and scarring. Yet he was now acutely aware it could have been much, much worse. He could imagine worse. He could imagine the consequences of worse. It burned him to be so helpless.

His hand closed around the neck of the bottle, and he made a couple of long gulps. The clock on the wall told him it was almost midnight. His neck was stiff.

There had to be something, though. He was Tony Stark, the inventor of everything-others-thought-impossible, he couldn't just give up.

Loki needed a place where he felt safe. Okay, Stark Tower might work. He needed some semblance of control, of power, the knowledge that he had the freedom to make decisions instead of having them forced upon him, he needed the confidence that came with knowing one wasn't helpless, knowing one had means to defend himself, the ability and the right to shape his own future …

Tony sighed. Protection he could offer. Comfort. But that was about it. He couldn't magically make Loki feel better or give him any of the other things …

Waaaait a second.

What had he just thought?

He couldn't …

Tony almost dropped the bottle in his haste. He strode across the penthouse, tapping his foot for the whole ten seconds it took him to get down to the team floor, and nearly ended up pushing the elevator door aside. He rushed past the lounge room (were that Natasha and Clint on that couch?). The corridor seemed impossibly long, yet it felt like not even a second had passed before he was finally banging on Thor's door with both fists. The pain in his knuckles didn't even register, and lucky Thor for opening the door slowly, otherwise Tony might have continued to knock on him.

The Thunderer frowned, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"Friend Stark. What is the matter?"

Tony let his hands fall to his sides. His jaw was set.

In his mind, the clock struck midnight.

"I want to talk to your father."

* * *

A/N: The whole story is told from Tony's POV, and because of that some important things happen off screen and Tony only hears about them (e.g. Loki's bragain with Odin, or his fight with doombots etc.). If you're interested in reading about that too, I can write extras told from Loki's or somebody else's POV, depends on the scene, (after I finish the actual story), but you'll have to let me know what you'd like to see, if anything at all.

Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!


	17. Chapter 17: February 11 (Part I)

A/N: Okay, long notes this time, but please read them, yeah?

I didn't leave you waiting for too long, right ...? Right. (Sorry, last year of high school, there are things that need to be done ...)

My dear beta reader is, due to some unfortunate circumstances, unable to keep proofreading this, so if anyone's interested in being my beta, please let me know. I'll give you half the internet if you do it. 3/4 maybe ^^ (This also means this chapter probably has typos ...)

Thank you for reviews and other kind of attention you've given to this story, you always make me so happy. But that question about extras from different POVs? That was not rhetorical. I'm seriously asking that, okay? Please, let me know what you'd prefer.

Music: Part II: Inception—Time; Part III: Astor Piazolla—Oblivion (although I kind of listened to Time all the time, because for some reason I love the piece)

More notes at the end.

* * *

**February 11****th**** (Part I)**

"_Families are messy. Immortal families are eternally messy. Sometimes the best we can do is to remind each other that we're related, for better or worse … and try to keep the maiming and killing to a minimum."_

_~Rick Riordan: Percy Jackson And the Sea of Monsters _

"Pardon?"

"I want to talk to your father," Tony repeated.

"What for?"

"Whatever reason will get me an audience with him." And he was willing to lie a great deal. That was the only idea he had, and he was going to make. It. Work. "Say, if I take the role of a diplomat who's there to speak about intergalactic affairs, would your old man listen?"

Thor seemed to be considering this for a moment. His expression fell.

"Is my brother the cause of this?"

How did he—

"Has he done something I am not aware of? Caused you trouble?"

"No, he— Um, well, no. But I would like to discuss some things." Tony leaned against the doorframe, trying to appear casual. His heart was beating rapidly. (Also, Thor apparently slept in T-shirts and briefs. He so did not need to know that.)

Thor scratched his chin. "I think I could do that for you. However, it would be much easier if you told me about your qualms. Father would listen to me."

"Yeah, it's not like I don't appreciate the offer"—_but Loki doesn't want you to know_—"but there are … details. It would be easier if I explained it. No offense."

Gods, how he hoped Thor would give in. If not—everybody had their price. He'd bribe his friend for Loki's sake. It was scary, how much he'd be willing to do. Loki's pain hit him in a place he couldn't reach to assuage the pain, making him bleed in gallons, and it _hurt_.

"All right. I shall take you to Asgard. But I cannot assure you my father will allow the audience."

Well, if the old man wouldn't listen to Earth's ambassador, then he really was a dickhead.

"Thanks buddy," Tony said. "I'll buy you pop tarts. Can we go?"

Thor's eyebrows faced the danger of disappearing into his hairline. "Now?"

"Yeah." Tony shrugged. "Why not?"

"It is the middle of the night."

"Technically, it's like a third of the night." Tony rubbed the edge of his sole against the doorframe. "Look, Hercules, I can't really sleep, and I've got a feeing getting drunk might not be the smartest idea, so can we just get it over with? Please?" he added. Thor probably owed him that much, seeing he was always allowed to stay at Tony's place, and eat Tony's food, and buy things with Tony's money.

"Very well. Let me change my attire. I would suggest you wear your armour."

"Thanks. I'll meet you on my terrace in ten."

With that, Tony turned away. He heard the door close and rubbed his forehead. It was a little easier to breathe; at least he knew he was doing something useful. At least he was trying.

Both he and the Thunderer were ready before ten minutes had passed, both wearing their armours.

"So, what now?" Tony asked. "How do you get up there without the Cube or the Bifrost?"

"Heimdall can activate the Tesseract," Thor said simply, as if that was all there was to it. It was probably all he knew anyhow. Maybe Heimdall was the one Tony should ask? Was he anything like the mythology described him? Golden teeth and all that?

"Heimdall!" Thor bellowed. "Heimdall, we need to get to Asgard!"

At first, nothing happened. Then a flash of light cut the midnight sky in half.

Travelling with the Tesseract was nothing Tony would ever forget. The gentle hum of energy drumming in his veins just before it began and blue light blurred his vision, and then a pull, a force that seemed to force him out of his body, carrying him with the speed of light or possibly faster. Colours swirled all around him, hues of blue so exquisite he couldn't tell them apart from the twirling pattern they kept dancing in. Something that could have been wind if he'd been on Earth pressed against his skin, but there was no sound at all.

Ground blossomed under him faster than he'd been expecting. The contact threw him off balance, but he managed to stay on his feet, although his legs felt like jelly and his lungs like all the air had been squeezed out of them and then pumped right back in with too much force. Adrenaline surged through his veins.

"My prince."

Tony inhaled sharply and turned around. Well. Like he didn't feel short enough on Earth. Were all the Aesir so freakin tall?

"Heimdall," Thor greeted the dark man with golden armour and an enormous sword. His hands rested on the top of the hilt.

"This is Man of Iron of Midgard, a great warrior."

The gatekeeper gave a short nod. "An honour."

"Yeah, hi. How could you have been birthed by nine women?" And couldn't he show his teeth even a little?

But Thor said, "We are here to see my father," and Tony's comment went unacknowledged. Pouting a little, the inventor turned his eyes downwards. They were standing on a glassy surface threaded with flashing colours. On both sides of it was nothing but endless universe. Not far away the bridge ended with sharp shards. Looking upwards, he saw the sky bathed in purple and pink, stretched out to the furthest point of the horizon, littered with specks of gold and clad in nebulas like a shy virgin, teasingly caressing white peaks of heaven-reaching mountains, serving as an extension of the glorious city beneath it, a creation that would put every earthly architect to shame and render art historians speechless. Stars and suns cast gentle light on the scenery. The sound of falling water served as background music.

Tony's chest tightened. This was Loki's home, this golden piece of heaven with shadows so deep they had no bottom, and so well hidden no one knew they existed.

"Friend Stark?"

He twitched back into reality. "Hm?"

"Follow me," Thor said. His radiance didn't suffer when compared to the golden coulisse. If anything, he looked even more like the prince he was, for once not awkwardly out of place, but _home_. This was where he belonged, and could Loki, who was as different from Thor as night was from day, ever fit into this picture? Had Asgard once brought the same kind of life to his eyes than it did to Thor's? Would it ever do that again?

_They need a place to belong._

And Tony understood. A place to stay was not necessarily home. He understood, he should have known before, considering he had many, many places to stay but rarely used most of them, and he walked next to Thor with a heavy heart.

They didn't even make it to the half of the bridge when Tony noticed a group of fast approaching horses, five or six of them, and not all seemed to have a rider. He glanced at Thor, but the Thunder's face beamed.

"My friends," he said shortly. "They are brave warriors also."

Tony nodded, wondering if that was really the most important piece of information that could be offered, or if it was meant to reveal more to Tony than it did. Soon after that he had no more time to ponder, for the riders came to a half in front of them—four riders with six horses—and the only woman swiftly slipped off her mare's back.

"Thor!" she all but shouted and threw herself into the Thunderer's arms, her black ponytail hitting their shoulders. "Welcome back!"

They let go of each other.

"'t is great to see you, my friends!" Thor exclaimed. "May I present, Tony Stark, the Man of Iron, my shield brother! These are Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun."

Tony's gaze followed the direction of Thor's extended arm. He nodded to the trio.

"We brought you horses," Fandral said, indicating the two extra steeds. "And we missed you, Thor."

"Aye, I missed you too." The God of Thunder swung himself onto a horse's back. Tony followed suit much more awkwardly. He was not a fan of riding. In fact, he hadn't done it since the time he'd been a child and one of his rare friends managed to convince him to try. He'd had enough after two months, but at least he knew how to sit on a horse. The suit wasn't very helpful though.

Thor easily slipped into something that practically screamed routine with his friends. They talked about hunting, feasts, and Earthly women, asked about Jane and laughed at Fandral's tale about some beautiful goddess. Tony listened silently; he wasn't here to make friends.

They reached the city soon. People came running to see Thor and ended up whispering about Tony, speculating as people always did, because that was such an odd armour he wore, and they'd never seen him with their prince before, and he wasn't from Vanaheim, was he?

A group of onlookers followed them right to the palace where they were replaced by servants who lead their horses away. Finally, Tony was left waiting in front of some enormous golden doors engraved with Celtic-knot designs. The four warriors kept him company (or stood watch, he wouldn't be surprised).

"You are Midgard's ambassador?" Sif looked at him with narrowed eyes. She was beautiful, but Tony got the impression she had to try too hard to be … whoever it was she wanted to be.

"I guess you can say that." He shrugged. It was his self-imposed role, but she didn't need to know that. "And you're a part of the warriors' group?"

"Of course."

"Hm. Why not the Warriors Four then?"

She stabbed him with her glare. A tiny speck of pain flitted through her eyes, and Tony realised he'd hit a sore spot.

"Sorry," he muttered. He didn't feel very remorseful, but he'd insulted Loki like this many times in the past, and he did regret it now.

Luckily for him the doors opened. Thor's eyes found his.

"Father will hear you," he announced.

Tony's stomach did something funny. Damn, he was _not_ nervous. He was not. Squaring his shoulders, he followed Thor into a small hall; it had to be meant for personal receptions. Its walls were of a creamy colour. A golden throne sat on one end, a deep relief of a majestic tree looming behind it. An old man, looking all regal in his armour, stood in front of it, a golden spear in his hand. His hair was white, and he wore ... an eye patch. Really now. Tony knew the legends, of course he did, but actually seeing Odin One-Eyed was something entirely different. If he and Fury were put together, they'd actually have a whole pair of eyes …

Thor bowed his head and Tony did the same. Showing respect to someone who'd done nothing to deserve it wasn't really his cup of tea, but all the same he knew he was the one with a request and it was up to Odin to grant it or refuse.

"Man of Iron. Thor tells me you wish to speak with me."

"I do," Tony said as confidently as he could. He'd never had problems with addressing a crowd or speaking in public, but with Loki's wellbeing on the line, and feelings, so many feelings involved …

"I will hear you."

"Awesome. I mean thanks. Could you just … Can we speak in private?"

Odin's eye narrowed, but Tony held his gaze.

"About your son," he added, feeling himself sweating underneath the suit. Not knowing what else to do with them, he clasped his arms behind his back.

"Very well." Odin lowered himself onto the throne and waved a dismissing hand towards the guards. "Leave us. You too, Thor."

"Father—"

"Leave us."

Thor pressed his lips together but obeyed, albeit reluctantly.

"Speak now," Odin said.

"Sorry, but I have to ask first – what did you do to Loki before sending him to Earth?"

If Odin happened to have had his son tortured, there was no reason he'd help Loki now.

"Why would you wish to know?"

Think, Tony, think. What would an ambassador say?

"Our authorities wish to know the nature of his punishment."

Odin didn't look too pleased, but at least he didn't order for Tony to be thrown out.

"Loki spent the time alone in a dungeon."

Oh, well, at least he hadn't been tortured—

Wait.

"Alone? As in isolated?"

Odin's brow furrowed. "Mostly. What else did you imagine?"

Fuck. That was psychological torture of the worst kind. He'd needed safety, and all he'd got was solitude with no one but his personal demons to keep him company.

Tony's hands curled into fists.

Okay, so the Allfather hadn't known what Loki had gone through. That made it a tiny little bit better, but still …

Tony took a deep breath.

"I would ask you to grant Loki access to his magic."

Eyebrow rising, Odin leaned forward. Tony stared up at him defiantly.

"Look." The inventor took another deep breath and exhaled loudly. "I know he did bad things. But he also did good things. Thor was forgiven when he offered his life to protect a town. Well, Loki fought to protect Earth—"

He shut up when Odin raised his hand. "I believe Loki fought. But you saw how quickly he turned his back on his allies. He could do the same to you without hesitation if it suited him. But I am curious. Why would you want my son to have his powers back? Thor tells me you were the one who killed Loki's ally."

Tony's brow furrowed. "Thor is clueless about a great many things. Sure, it was my weapon that blasted Thanos into pieces, but if Loki hadn't—"

"Thanos?" Odin stood up. "The Mad Titan?"

"I don't know about titan, but he certainly had to be a little mad. Why? The name tells you something?" Because it sure as hell didn't mean anything to Thor.

"Yes." The old god slowly descended the stairs. His wrinkles suddenly seemed even deeper, his expression serious and sombre. "Are you certain he is dead?"

"Loki is." That was enough for him.

"Loki was Thanos's ally."

"Hell no. Loki was Thanos's plaything."

Okay, so maybe Tony was revealing things here that Loki wouldn't want to see revealed, but if it got him his magic back … It was time somebody did something for Loki instead of expecting something from him. Seeing as the Allfather actually seemed willing to listen, Tony wasn't about to worry about discretion.

"What are you trying to say?"

"Exactly what I said. That you punished Loki for something he'd never wanted to do." (That part where Loki was enjoying the chaos was better left out.)

For a second something lit up Odin's eye, but it flickered out of existence like a candle in the wind, and shadows clouded his face once more.

"As much as I would like to believe my son is innocent," he said slowly, "I know him too well. This is far more likely to be some trick of his than the truth."

"You don't know Loki at all!" Tony snapped before he could stop himself. Loki was not innocent. Even freed of the guilt for invading Earth he wouldn't be; life had beaten the innocence out of him. And if Odin really thought Loki was incapable of telling the truth, what kind of a father was he? "Loki's mind is fucked up, and he suffers! He deserves better than that!"

Odin's jaw was set. It was clear he was thinking, but beyond that Tony couldn't read anything from his face. It was almost as good as Loki's façade … And could perhaps be even better if the god tried.

After long moments of silence Odin found Tony's eyes with his gaze; that blue eye penetrated his defences, and shit, it reminded him on Loki's stares too much. The two gods may not have been related, but it was clear where Loki had grown up and who he'd looked up to, and Tony felt a pang of pain in his chest.

"Can't you just give him a chance? Or … or somehow make sure I'm not being manipulated? I mean … you have magic and all. Can't you? Please?" He was down to begging, and shit, he didn't even care. Loki's desperate pleas echoed in his mind. Loki's fall from the tower. His unshed tears when Tony had told him he loved him.

"You're supposed to be his _father_," he added, and if his voice broke at the end, there was no one to hear it but the Allfather, whose gaze softened, filling with something that may or may not have been curiosity. He cocked his head just the slightest.

"What are you to Loki?"

Tony swallowed. "Not to sound conceited or anything, but right now I'm pretty much all he has."

"Hmm."

Whether the silence was a good or a bad thing, Tony had yet to find out.

Odin sighed heavily. "You care for my son."

It wasn't really a question, but Tony confirmed it anyway.

"You might be biased."

"I _am_ biased. So what? It doesn't change the facts."

"That Thanos orchestrated the invasion on Midgard?"

"Yes!" How many times would he have to say the same thing? "That Loki was tortured, that he got too close to insanity too many times, whatever else you want to hear, name it! He needs his magic!"

Gods, Tony was so glad he was in Asgard right now and nobody he knew could hear him. Except … Oh.

"Please tell me you have soundproof walls?"

"We cannot be heard from outside, if that is what you mean." Odin closed the distance between them and placed his hands on Tony's shoulders. "I would like to believe you, but I am a king as much as a father."

Like Howard had been a scientist? Was that really a satisfying excuse?

Tony swallowed as he pushed Odin's hands away and stepped backwards. The back of his eyes stung.

"Then I can just hope you're a better king than a father."

Clenching his fists, he started for the door. He should have got used to the excruciating pain of disappointment by now, what with his personal history of betrayal. His teeth were stubbornly pressed together. Not everything was lost. He'd just have to find a way to remove Loki's bracelets himself. Piece of cake.

"There is a way."

Tony stopped. "A way to do what?"

"To ascertain you are not being manipulated."

Tony's eyebrows rose. He turned partly. "Yes?"

"I shall need to see my son."

"So, back to the Gay Bridge?"

Odin gave him a strange look. Tony shrugged.

"It's a Rainbow Bridge. Rainbow. Eee, you know, never mind, sorry." He should really learn to control his tongue. So he followed the king silently, only to be met with five stares, some more openly curious than others, just outside the door.

"Father? What is happening?"

"I must make sure of something," Odin replied shortly before Tony could even open his mouth, leaving the man to wonder whether that had been the intention. "You are free to come to Midgard with us or remain here."

Thor gave Tony a befuddled look, silently begging for an explanation, while Tony devoted his every brain cell to mentally trying to convince Odin not to reveal anything. He'd totally forgotten to ask for discretion.

The ride back to Heimdall was faster than the one in the opposite direction, and silent. There was a certain kind of urgency in Odin's posture, the same kind Tony's eyes mirrored. Perhaps the king did care for Loki after all. Perhaps Tony's judgement had been a little unfair; being a king couldn't be any easier than being the owner of Stark Industries. Still, that he hadn't been willing to believe in Loki at all … Had the Trickster really told so many lies in the past, or had his words simply been discarded as lies even when they'd been true?

His grip on the reins tightened.

* * *

As soon as they landed on the terrace, Thor excused himself, saying he needed to go to the bathroom but would be back in a moment, and Tony, using his absence to his advantage, quickly led Odin to the medical bay. Seeing Loki's motionless form again made his throat constrict.

"He's sedated," Tony explained. "Gonna sleep for a while longer."

Odin nodded. Tony had no idea whether the god actually understood what sedated meant. The latter approached the bed, then slowly, very slowly placed a hand on Loki's forehead.

"That is good," he said.

"Huh?"

Odin pinned him with his gaze. "Leave us."

What? "If you're going to hurt him …"

"As long as he does not resist, there shall be no pain."

"As long as— What the hell are you planning to do?!"

"Leave." Odin's voice was even, but made of steel. There was power in his gaze that allowed no disobedience. Grimacing, Tony turned and left the room. He leaned on the wall opposite to the door, crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

If Odin hurt Loki …

"Sir, Mr Odinson is looking for you."

"Thor?"

"Yes, sir."

"Tell him his daddy doesn't wish for extra company right now."

What was he even doing in there? How could he tell whether Loki was manipulating Tony or not?

The billionaire began tapping his foot against the wall. He didn't remember seconds being so long. With every heartbeat, the knot in his guts tightened.

Footsteps suddenly filled the silent corridor. Well, they resonated. _Thor_ filled it.

"Man of Iron! Where is my father?"

Tony nodded towards the door. "In there. He practically threw me out, the b—Thor!"

The Thunderer pushed the door away (couldn't he be just a little bit more careful with Tony's property?). Tony, words already half-formed on the tip of his tongue, made to enter the room, but the sight rooted him to the stop. Thor too.

It was surreal. Odin was sitting on a side of the bed, a spot of gold in the small white room, cradling Loki's sleeping form in his arms. The trickster's head rested on his not-father's shoulder. One of Odin's hands was buried in the inky strands. There he was, the king of gods, looking old and weary, with a glistering line tears had left on his cheek.

Words died on Tony's lips. Hell, he forgot what words were, he just wanted to scream. If Odin cried over Loki, then things had to be bad, so very bad, and how could Tony even help? But he didn't shout, only choked on his own breath a little, because this scene was so wrong for so many reasons.

It turned out he didn't have to say anything. Thor rapidly sucked in a breath.

"Father!"

The Thunderer had never looked so pale before.

"Is Loki … He is not … _dead_?"

"No." Odin's expression was much more collected now. He hadn't tried to wipe the wetness from his cheek. Did he think the gesture would make it more obvious?

"What is the matter then?"

Thor's confusion was understandable. After all, why would Odin cry over Loki if not because of his death? But Tony knew. He also knew that was the wrong question. Some things required too much time to explain, too much strength and will, and left both the speaker and the listener changed men forever. This, this was one of those things; he could see it in the way Odin's shoulders were sagged, in the way his eye would not dry, the way he was sitting completely still. Tony wondered what thoughts were running through the god's head. If he were a super powerful deity who'd somehow found out his son had been tortured and abused, the universe would not remain in one piece. Possibly the only reason it hadn't been torn to pieces yet was Odin's guilt; the knowledge he had contributed to his son's pain had to be a heavy burden. Perhaps too heavy to ever allow his posture to fully straighten again.

"What did you do?" he asked quietly, moving forward.

Odin's eyes slid close for a moment or two. He placed Loki back on the bed but didn't let go of his forearm.

"There is a spell that grants the wielder access to somebody's memories. It is rarely used, and for good reasons too. You should ask my son about it sometime."

"Loki won't like that." His mind was off limits. Even Tony couldn't read him, no matter how much he wished he could. It was something Loki guarded fiercely, and to have it rummaged through like a pile of bureaucratic papers … Had Loki been aware of it? Had he been forced to go through all the things Odin had seen again? Wait … Odin had seen Loki's memories. And Loki's memories included …

Ah, shit.

"M-hm. Yeah, about what you saw … I'm sorry for that thing. Things. I mean, I didn't really … Look, I'm both too young and too popular to die, so how about we skip the part where you kill me?"

"Your manners are terrible, but I see no reason why you should die."

"Some people would disagree," he muttered. They could find—they _have_ found—plenty of reasons. Not that Tony agreed with them. Unfortunately, they never asked.

"You have made mistakes," Odin said, glimpsing down at Loki. "But so have I, and you have done much for my son. For that you have my deepest gratitude. I would ask you to provide lodgings for me, so that I may speak to Loki when he wakes."

"He'll be mad."

"Nobody takes an intrusion into his mind lightly."

True enough.

"Yeah. I'll show you a room where you can stay. Come on." He waved a hand at Odin to follow him, then led the way to the room Loki had previously occupied. There were more guest rooms, naturally, but none of them was prepared, and Tony doubted the king of Asgard wanted to make his bed in the middle of the night. He was planning to bring Loki up to the penthouse anyway.

"That's it," he said, keeping his voice low; the rest of the Avengers were asleep. "If you need anything, call Jarvis. He's my computer. Or the Voice. Thor calls him the Voice."

Thor, who was right now standing by the doorframe, patiently and silently, and that alone was enough to make Tony suspicious. Thor was _never_ patient or silent.

"So, good night or something," Tony said to Odin. He saw the god nod back just before he left the room. Thor followed at his heels. They made it as far as the loungue room before Thor stepped forward, effectively blocking Tony's way.

"What is wrong with my brother?"

The billionaire sighed in his mind.

"I knew you'd ask that."

Thor just looked at him, brows pulled together. This time Tony sighed for real.

"Come on, let's go upstairs. People are sleeping here, yeah?"

"And you will tell me."

Well, it certainly didn't sound like he had much of a choice. Thank gods omissions existed …

The first thing he did was walk into his kitchen and poured cold water down his throat. Thor accepted the drink as well but shook his head at the offer of alcohol.

"Tell me."

"Yeah." Tony pulled a chair away from the table, turned it around, and sat down, his arms resting on the backrest. Loki did that sometimes. When he wasn't busy sitting on the counter, or the table, or the back- or armrest of a couch.

"Loki's sleeping."

Thor scowled some more. "I know what sedatives are."

Tony shrugged. "He's hurting."

"Hurting? What did that Man of Doom do to my brother!?"

Tony may or may not have moved backwards just a little. "You mean besides kidnapping him, planning to use him as bait, and then falling for his trick, because that's pretty much it. Oh, and the explosions."

"Explosions …" Thor's eyes fell to his hands, which were resting palms-up in his lap. "Tell me, friend Stark … Is this somehow my fault? I swear I didn't mean to hit him. We were thrown in the air and …"

"Don't kill yourself over it." It wasn't fair, how Thor could pull off such a convincing kicked-puppy look. "I'm pretty sure you merely knocked him out. Yeah, Bruce couldn't check for concussion, because his eyes are a mess, but if he thought you did something, he'd have told you." Probably. Maybe.

"Thank you, friend Stark."

"Tony, big guy. Just Tony."

Thor nodded. "Tony. Why did my father want to read Loki's memories?"

"He wanted to clarify some things. Avoid Loki's lies." And that was actually the truth. "I don't know what he saw." Or better, what _exactly_ he saw.

"Neither do I … For father to cry … That is …" Thor shook his head. "Perhaps … Loki's deeds were too much for him."

It was too sad to see Thor, the one person who had always believed in Loki's goodness, suggest that. He couldn't give up on his brother, not now, not ever. Because he was right. Bad deeds or not, Loki's heart was good. And big. So big.

"Don't be a pessimist. The glass is half-full, not half-empty. Well, actually it's always completely full, let's not forget air fills it too, yeah? Look, maybe your daddy felt all emotional because he got to see his sons memories … People get nostalgic. Wait, do gods get nostalgic?"

Thor wrinkled his eyebrows. "Yes."

"Right. Of course you do. Since your life spans are so ridiculously long you must have a lot of memory-baggage … How old _are_ you actually?"

"Over a thousand years. Loki too."

"Wow. That's … a lot."

Thousand years. It made sense. It made perfect sense. Still … Thousand years. What was a few decades compared to that? They didn't even look old … Maybe they _did_ have reasons for thinking humans insignificant. Yet Loki loved a human. He'd had the entire universe at his disposal, all the gods, and he'd chosen a mortal man.

Tony's throat closed up.

Would Loki answer if he asked about his reasons?

Thor shifted in his seat. "Why did you think father would kill you?"

Tony had a better question: why had Thor had to remember that?

"I didn't … I thought he might be a little mad. Things weren't always peachy between Loki and me. We both know how to be mean."

He couldn't say anything else. He just … couldn't.

"Oh. You do not seem to be incapable of tolerating each other."

"We're not. It's fine. Everybody argues sometimes."

Thor didn't say anything. His gaze rested on Tony, who, after five seconds, decided he'd been stared at long enough and pushed to his feet. He probably hadn't managed to fully convince Thor he didn't know what was going on, but as long as the Thunderer only had a feeling there might be more to it, it was all right. When he knew for sure …

Tony had promised Loki he wouldn't reveal their relationship. Hiding it from Odin had proved impossible. He hoped they could keep it a secret at least for a while longer, so that Loki got a chance to recover.

"It's late, Hercules." What time was it even, three in the morning? "Why don't we go to sleep?"

Thor nodded. Tony walked him back to the team floor. He knew sleeping was a good idea, but he'd gone without rest before, and how was he even supposed to sleep now? True, he had Jarvis to warn him if Loki awoke, but it would take time to get there, and Loki might need him immediately. There was also that tiny problem of falling asleep in the first place. Having icy knots in his stomach and something heavy sitting on his chest wasn't exactly Tony's favourite state to go to bed in. No, he couldn't go to sleep. He couldn't drink himself into coma either. Loki needed him.

Tony's legs found the way to the medical bay on their own. The walls needed to be painted; nobody wanted them white if he was ill. Why hadn't he thought of that sooner?

His steps echoed down the corridors. Sneaking anywhere was damn hard in the suit, but there was one advantage of still having it on—it was going to make carrying Loki much easier. Tony sure as hell wasn't leaving him in the medical bay. It had never made anyone feel any better, and surely Loki would prefer Tony's penthouse over this. Besides, Tony didn't want to sit in a super uncomfortable chair (which he was so going to ban from his tower. No uncomfortable chairs allowed from now on) while waiting for Loki to wake up.

He carefully pushed Loki's blanket away and slid one arm under Loki's shoulders when he spotted his boots beside the bed. He didn't have enough arms to carry them and Loki. Except is he tucked them under his arm. That might just work.

It did too. And that was good. Sure, they were just boots, but they were important to Loki, and Loki was what really mattered here. Tony cradled him a bit closer to his body still.

He was glad Jarvis could control the elevators, so that there was no need to press annoying buttons. He was a little less glad about the state of his lounge room. It had started to snow outside, and occasional snowflakes rode on the wind through the broken window. Sighing heavily, he tore his gaze away. He hated doombots. And Doom. And the chitauri and Thanos. Killing him once again would be such pleasure.

Tony gently placed Loki on the mattress. Tearing himself away from the bed seemed so awfully hard, but he managed and got rid of the suit, then returned as fast as possible. One of the Trickster's hands had slipped off the edge of the bed, dangling in the air. Tony reached out to place it back to Loki's side when something caught his eye. Or rather ... the lack of something.

Loki's bracelets were gone.

Tony's lips curled into a relieved half-smile. So Odin had removed them. It hadn't all been for nothing. Loki wouldn't have to feel powerless anymore. Something blossomed in Tony's chest, something warm and heartening. Something like … hope.

"I love you, babe," he murmured, bringing Loki's hand to his lips. "I love you."

"Tony?"

The latter jerked. Damn, it was impossible to tell whether Loki was awake without seeing his eyes.

"I'm here," he assured. "We're in my bedroom. Just you and me."

"I … I know." He sounded surprised, but Tony was only now becoming aware how eloquent Loki's facial expressions were, how much they betrayed even when there was nothing to see but an impeccable façade. He missed that.

"You know?"

"Yes." Loki slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. His hand remained in Tony's grasp. "I can sense it. I can … I have magic. Why? What is happening?"

"Nothing to worry about."

"Stark. What. Is. Happening?"

Tony had a feeling the temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees. He swallowed. "Odin is here."

"The Allfather …? What? _Why_?"

"Loki, calm down." Tony squeezed the other's hand. "Thor took me to Asgard. I convinced Odin to—that you deserve your magic back."

"You went to Asgard," Loki repeated blankly.

"I didn't know what else to do." Come to think of, he hadn't known what to do many times when it came to Loki. "I thought having magic would help you … recover."

"I'm fine, Stark."

Yet he was trying to create distance between them.

"That's a pretty unconvincing lie for the God of Lies. You don't have to pretend. You don't have to be strong all the time."

The corner of Loki's lips twitched. "Don't I?"

"No, you don't. Maybe you had to in the past, but nobody should be expected to go on forever without falling."

"I can't just …" Loki swallowed. He leaned back against the headboard. His voice was too high. "I can't just _break_. I can't. I just can't."

Gods, Tony knew the feeling. Thinking you couldn't allow yourself to be weak because you were afraid you'd never be able to go back to being strong again, terrified of how everything you fought to keep together would crumble and nothing would ever be enough to make it all whole again.

But maybe Loki needed to break. Maybe he needed to fall apart if he ever wanted to build something new out of the pieces.

"Breaking doesn't mean you aren't strong." If only he'd known that before. Wasn't it sad that it took experiencing the worst thing in life to realise something so simple? "And I'll help you be strong, okay?"

"I …" Loki took a deep breath. "I'll be fine. I'm fine. It's not like I didn't know they'd forced me. It was just … unimportant details."

"Loki …" How could he reach to the god through that invisible armour? How could he show him that he didn't need those walls anymore after he'd been forced to stand alone for so long? The moment he was conscious enough the Trickster crawled back into his shell, closing the door in Tony's face.

So many painful things had happened to the inventor's guts and chest in the last twenty-four hours, yet he still felt the surge of pain as clearly as he'd felt the first.

It just wasn't fair.

"Sir. Your visitor is waiting in the lounge room."

Tony straightened. "What's he doing up here?"

"He requested I alert him when Mr Odinson wakes."

Loki tried to suppress a wince at the name but failed. Tony clenched his free hand into a fist.

"Odin is here," he said quietly. "He wants to talk to you. But it's up to you."

"He didn't say that."

"No. But I did." It didn't matter if Tony thought they had important matters to clear. Only that the conversation would hurt Loki, and above all, that Loki got to make the decision.

"He'll never leave if I don't."

"You don't have to talk to him." There was the stupid protectiveness again.

"I will."

Loki's jaw was set. He threw his legs over the edge and stood. Tony held on to his hand. Silence hung over them while they walked those few feet separating them from the destroyed lounge room. A knot of nervousness tightened in Tony's guts. His shoes made small sounds when they hit the ground. Loki was barefoot; his steps were soundless.

Odin was waiting by the tattered remains of the couches. Loki faced him as if knowing exactly where he stood, but didn't approach. He just froze on the spot, gripping Tony's hand. His shoulders were tense, jaw set.

The knife in the wall seemed sharp enough to cut the silence enveloping them like wet cotton wool. Nobody moved. Odin's eye rested on Loki, serious and sad, Loki's lips trembled just the slightest, Tony's gaze kept wondering from one god to another.

Then the Allfather broke the silence.

"My son …"

Loki's grip tightened for a moment, sending a wave of pain through Tony's fingers.

"There is much to be said. Some things can wait. Some cannot. I am sincerely sorry, both for what you had to go through and for reading your memories."

"You—_What?"_

It was more of an exhale than an actual word, breathed out in a shaky voice, the most broken sound Tony had ever heard. It did something to his heart that in turn made the back of his eyes burn. Such a fragile sound coming from somebody so strong …

"I apologize—"

"You read my memories? My mind?"

Tony's fingers were beginning to go numb. Loki struggled to get his breathing under control.

"Why?"

"I needed to know."

Loki shook his head.

"No. No, you didn't. You don't care. Why would you need to know?"

Odin, lips pressed together, made a step forward. "Anthony Stark requested I grant you the access to your magic. I had to know if he was being manipulated."

Loki's lips parted. Then closed. He swallowed. Odin went on.

"I am very sorry for what has been done to you." The sadness on his face seemed sincere, but Loki shook his head.

"Why?"

"What do you mean? You are my son."

"I have never been your son."

Tony couldn't feel his fingers anymore. He tried to shift his hand. Loki, remembering his own strength, let go.

"I've merely been a tool to use in your politics, and you know it."

"No, Loki, that is untrue—"

"Then why was I never good enough?! No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, I was never anything more than Thor's shadow—"

Tony could feel anger radiating off Loki, anger and hurt, in a waves so strong he almost believed he could see them if he only strained his eyes hard enough …

"—only ever good enough to solve everybody's trouble and be dismissed and mocked behind my back the next second! I might be a monster, but you, you are a monster too, otherwise you would never have brought me into your pretty golden world just so I could never forget what I really was!"

Odin made another step forward. His expression was torn between sorrow and rage, because—Tony thought—he was a king and how dared anyone talk to him like that, but he held his emotions in check. Well, mostly.

"Why won't you listen to me?"

"What, like you did to me all the time?!"

"I did. We did, Loki, you can't have forgotten everything we've shared—"

"_Don't._ Lie to me!"

Loki threw his arm backwards, a gust of wind following the motion, and were those green sparks dancing at his fingertips?

"Nobody ever listened to me in Asgard! Nobody!"

"Be silent!" Odin hissed. "You aren't even giving me a chance to listen!"

Loki staggered back like he'd been hit. Did those words mean something special to him? Were there pictures of the past flashing before his eyes?

His pale hands clenched into fists for a moment. Then he brought them to his face and tore the bandage away before Tony could protest, revealing pink, still-unhealed skin. And his eyes, gods, his eyes. Perhaps it was good that he even had eyes, but the skin of his eyelids tore as he opened them, leaving rivulets of blood streaming down his cheeks. His green irises created an intense contrast to the red all around them—red skin, crimson blood, the broken capillaries that made his whites red as well.

"I don't care what you have to say. I don't care if you insist you're sorry. I. Don't. Care. Just like you don't care about me."

"Loki, please—"

"You! Don't! Care!"

Tony made a step back. Waves of power rolled off Loki—he couldn't see them, except in the way his shoulders were squared with determination, his eyes flashing, fingers bent in a claw-like fashion instead of clenched into fists—but he felt it, felt it in wind that had no right to be there at all, in the way air crackled with energy, the way shivers ran down his neck, and it made him want to run away, because Loki was _scary_, but above all it made him want to embrace him and hold him tight, whisper soothing words into his ears until he calmed down, and just take him away from it all.

"You weren't even watching!"

Odin opened his mouth to protest, but Loki snapped at him like an enraged animal.

"No, you were not! You—you let them do everything, you were so sure I could never fulfil the conditions, and if it wasn't for Heimdal—If you'd spent a minute watching, you would have known I was telling the truth!"

Sparks came alive at the tips of the god's fingers, turning into sparkly mist that twirled around his hands, his forearms. Tony was pretty sure Loki wasn't aware of it. His anger, his desperation, his pain were too much to leave room for other thoughts.

"Thor redeemed himself with the offer of sacrifice, why wasn't it enough for me?!"

"Loki, you have to control y—"

"_Do _you know where I'd be now if I always stayed in control—if I hadn't—" Loki suddenly fell silent. Then he threw his head back and laughed, all sharp edges and bitterness. It made Tony cringe. "Of course you know. I hope you enjoyed your explorations. Surely you must relish the fact you've taken everything from me now."

"No. Loki, it was the only way."

"Well, you could have listened!" Loki roared. Flames erupted in the green mist, fire-tongues shot outwards, leaving brunt lines on the floor and Loki standing in the middle, as if he were the sun and they his rays.

Odin scowled. "And you could have talked."

"Oh, but you wouldn't have believed me."

"How can you know that?"

"_Because you never have!_"

Under the rage, something was breaking, Tony could see it. The pain was so strong it reached even him. His chest refused to expend enough to allow the air in. His heart couldn't muster the strength to keep the blood flowing. His brain believed the feeling.

"You never have," Loki whispered, head bowed. The flames had died, and the Trickster stared at his hands like he couldn't believe they'd coaxed them into existence.

"I'm sorry …" Anger was gone from the old god's voice, replaced by genuine sadness. He looked truly old, ancient as the world itself. "No matter what you believe about me, I _am_ sorry, Loki, and you will_ always _be my son. I do love you."

Tony expected another burst of magic, another insult, another shouted sentence, but Loki seemed to mirror his not-father's reaction in a way. Not quite, he would not allow sadness to fill the canvas of his face, but his fury changed from white hot to cold and collected. Bits of magic still clung to his hands. There was something stone-like about his expression.

"Perhaps." The word was cold and clipped. "But it doesn't change anything. Don't expect me to be thankful to have my magic back, or to allow you ever to take it again, for I will not. I care not for your forgiveness, I have no need or desire for it, and I have none to give you. Let me be. I will never be your son."

And, without another spark or a twirl of the mist, he disappeared. Tony was nailed to the spot for a few seconds, staring at where Loki had just been. Noticing Odin shift his weight, the inventor pinned him with a glare.

"Okay. Get out."

The Allfather returned the stare. Tony balled his fists.

"I believe I told you to get out. You might be the king of Asgard, but you are no king here. And I will fucking protect what is mine. Now …"

He pointed at the elevator.

Odin opened his mouth to speak but changed his mind and only sighed. The look he offered Tony was not one of the most pleasant the billionaire had had the chance of seeing. It hardly mattered. The elevator doors slid closed, and silence settled over the ravaged lounge room.

Maybe throwing out the king of gods wasn't the smartest idea he'd ever had, but he just couldn't bear to see Loki hurting even more. He couldn't, even if it caused him the wrath of the Allfather.

"Jarvis," he said. "Where's Loki?"

"Your bedroom, sir."

Oh the relief the words sent through him. Loki could have been anywhere. If he'd left the tower, if Tony had lost the chance to find him again … something would probably end up set on fire. As it was, he rushed into the bedroom, stopping just shy of the closed door. Gingerly he opened it.

"Loki?"

No answer.

Tony entered and closed the door behind him. Loki was sitting beside the bed, curled up. His face was hidden between his knees.

"Loki …" Tony first crouched then kneeled in front of him. "Look at me. Please."

And he did. Shit, his eyes looked terrible up close, far from healed. Blood hadn't stopped oozing down his face.

Tony slowly placed a hand on his biceps. Loki opened his mouth to speak. Closed it again. Opened it.

"I … I'm okay." His whole body began to tremble; his voice was small and weak. "I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm … I …"

He pressed his fingers into his arms. His lips quivered.

"I'm o-okay … I …"

"I know. I know, babe."

"I'm okay," he whispered. Tony pulled him close, and Loki cried blood.

* * *

The Trickster was tense in Tony's arms, at the same time trying to get away and clinging to Tony's jumper. Tremors shook his body, he gasped and sobbed and screamed, and Tony pulled him closer, running his hands up and down the upper part of Loki's back—damn, the god needed to eat, Tony could feel the vertebras way too easily—up and down again until Loki stopped fighting the embrace, but for some reason that only made him sob harder.

"It's okay, babe," Tony whispered. "You can cry now. You're not alone anymore."

Loki muttered something unintelligible, choking on his breaths, the words broken into pieces between his sobs, and kept clutching Tony's shoulders like a lifeline.

Tony's heart bled.

"Shhh …"

There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do but be there.

"I'm here, I've got you, okay? You can cry, babe … I love you."

A raw sound tore itself from Loki's throat, one part scream, one part sob, and a whole of unbearable pain. Tears gathered throughout the years soaked Tony's clothes, tears and blood that could have as well come from the Trickster's heart. Tony felt numb and yet it hurt so much, so badly, and he couldn't breathe properly, and there was something wet on his cheeks, but he did not remember having a reason to sweat, so it must have been tears, it couldn't have been tears, and it _hurt_.

Time had no meaning. It had ceased to exist, but it was impossible to tell when, for how could one define the exact point in the past when there was no such thing as time at all? Everything had ceased to be, only Loki's body still shook, the pain was still real, the pain was everything, blood red with jagged edges buried deep into the forgotten reality. An eternity passed, empires emerged and expired, worlds burned and rose from the ashes, the horizon sunk into the sea of nightmares never to be seen again.

And then Loki's shoulders gradually stopped trembling, his breathing began to even out, his grip on Tony's shoulder lessened. Finally he looked up. His gaze was nothing if not liquid sorrow that ripped Tony's guts straight out of his body. Pale fingers wiped the moisture off the inventor's face, gingery as if the god were afraid of hurting him. Or perhaps he did not have any strength left.

Tony placed his hands on the side of Loki's face—his fingertips were immediately smeared with red—tilting his head, and brushed their lips together. The kiss tasted like salt and copper and something soul-deep. Loki pulled away first, backing away so that he was no longer practically on Tony's lap but still close enough the billionaire could feel his presence.

"I'm sorry."

Tony's brow furrowed. "There is nothing you need to apologize for. Nothing you should apologize for."

"Thank you." Loki wiped his bloody hands in his pants, eyes downcast. "You don't have to do all that."

For a second Tony contemplated him in silence.

"You're right, I don't have to. I do it because I choose to."

"But it hurts you."

Tony looked deep into the other's eyes. "Yes. Of course it hurts. But I'm not alone, and you're not alone, and sure, it's gonna be damn hard, but we'll get through this, okay?"

He understood now why Pepper always cared, always helped. At the same time he knew he couldn't keep running to her for help. Loki leaned on him when he needed to, and Tony had to lean back, perhaps not as heavily right now, but he needed to lean right back, that was the only way for their relationship to work.

"Okay?" he asked again.

Loki nodded.

"Good."

The god nodded again. Then his lips parted and he slowly asked,

"Why do you choose to do all that?"

Tony shrugged. "Because I love you."

"But why?"

And if that didn't just break his heart a little.

"Because you're … well, everything that you are. Like, you're an asshole, and you're brilliant and under all your anger and resentment you're _good_."

"I'm a monster."

Tony swallowed. Internalized racism, awesome. He cupped Loki's face, tilting it so that their gazes met.

"Listen to me," he said. "You. Are not. A monster. Monsters don't reflect on what they've done, they don't regret, they don't ever even consider they might be monsters, they just do what they do."

Loki wrapped his fingers around Tony's wrists and slowly pushed the inventor's hands away.

"How do you know I'm not like that?" He licked the blood off his lips. "I don't regret trying to destroy Jotunheim. I agreed to bring the Tesseract to Thanos in exchange for Earth at first."

"At first?"

"Yes."

"What made you change your mind?"

Loki laughed mirthlessly. "Sentiment." He pushed his hair away from his face. "I overheard the Other discussing plans for what would follow when the Tesseract was once in their hands. Thanos would have attacked Asgard. He would've wiped the nine realms out of existence. He might have spared Earth. Most likely not. What good would conquering it be then, a world that would have had perhaps weeks to live?"

Tony shifted his weight. He really should buy a carpet; his ass was getting too old for sitting like that.

"There's … more to it," he said slowly. "Am I right?"

Loki's face was blank. "Perhaps."

Yeah, right. There totally was more, or Tony wasn't Tony Stark anymore.

"I made my fortune selling weapons," he said. Loki cocked his head slightly. "No doubt you know that. My life consisted of parties, women, and cars. Responsibility and altruism were foreign concepts to me. Well, I still think there is no such thing as altruism, but let's leave the philosophic discussion for some other time. I was hurting people even more than I do now.

"Well, I found myself in captivity. Just like that. One day life was a party, the next I was locked in a cave with a car battery attached to my chest. This thing here"—he tapped the arc reactor with two fingers—"keeps me alive. I have shrapnel trying to get into my heart every second. A magnet keeps them out. You take the reactor out of my chest and I'll be a dead man in twenty minutes if I'm lucky.

"The thing is, I lost everything"—he snapped his fingers—"just like that. The ten Rings, that's the terrorist group that kidnapped me, had all of my already existing technology, but they wanted more, they wanted me to build a new weapon for them, the best I had at the time. I refused. They held my head under water until 'I'll do it' were the only words I could think of, and so I agreed. But I knew they were going to kill me the moment my job was done. I had to find a way out."

Tony took a deep breath. Loki was looking away, but Tony knew he was listening.

"First I built the arc reactor, then my suit. And I escaped. You probably heard all that. But there's more. If I'd been alone in that cave, I wouldn't have made it."

He paused for a second. This wasn't a topic he'd talk about. Ever. But trust was earned not given, and between two people who had such a hard time giving it as him and Loki …

The god had already shown weaknesses, albeit he still had much to share. In time.

"His name was Yinsen, and he was a good man if I ever knew one. He performed the operation that saved my life, reminded me I couldn't just give up. He showed me compassion when I needed it, even though I did not deserve it. He kept me sane. In the end, he sacrificed himself so that I could escape and told me I shouldn't waste my life.

"When I returned to civilization, I found out the man who'd been like a father to me had ordered my death. Not only that, he was selling weapons to terrorists behind my back. Innocent people were suffering and dying because of me. And then he tried to kill me again, because he wanted my company. He's dead now."

Silence claimed the room. Finally Loki looked up.

"Why did you tell me this?"

"Because I was once a monster too, and I didn't even know it until someone told me I didn't have to be one. It's not race or sex or skin colour that makes one a monster. It's what's under that skin. You made bad decisions and landed in bad places, but that's in the past. You did try to protect Asgard, you offered your life to save Earth. It's about choices, not blood. You're making the right choices now, and that's why you _can't_ be a monster."

Loki offered a sour smile. "That's not the way Asgard sees it. But I thank you. You were what kept me sane, you know."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "I was?"

"In Asgard. When Odin threw me in the dungeon."

Oh.

_Oh_.

"You … You were thinking about me. All that time."

That was … big. And it made something ice cold form in his stomach. Months in solitude with exactly how many things to cling to? That picture Loki had nurtured in his head, whatever it had been … What if all that was distorted? If Loki—

"Will you listen, Stark? Please?"

"Wha—yeah. Why wouldn't I?"

Loki shrugged. He didn't really need to answer, not after he'd shouted it at Odin time and again. He pulled his knees to his chest again, crossed his arms on top of them, and leaned on his bicep with his chin. He inhaled. Exhaled. Swallowed.

Silvertoungue at a loss of words.

Tony didn't prompt him.

"I know what you're thinking," Loki said at last, slowly, quietly. "When we … met here in the tower … I always knew you were stalling, yet you were the only who gave me some credit."

Oh. Okay. Tony didn't exactly remember it that way. He remembered the drink, and the dick joke, and falling, sure, but what Loki had just said? Had he really done that?

"You tried to talk to me."

"Didn't Thor—"

"Talk _to_ me, Stark, not _at_ me. True, your director and the little spider attempted to lead a conversation, but at least you …" Loki made a vague gesture with his hand. "You appealed to my reason, you gave my plan a recognition, talked to me as a person not some … not an army leader, not the enemy who couldn't think of anything else than his own deluded justification for his acts. You saw that what I was doing wouldn't necessarily lead to what everyone thought I wanted, and you told me that, that I might lose, but you didn't … You didn't try to make yourself superior."

Loki's gaze was stubbornly directed at the floor.

"You talk to others in the same way, do you not? I'd heard of your redemption story. You made something out of yourself. You succeeded all on your own."

"Yinsen …" Tony swallowed the knot in his throat and tried to find his voice. "Yinsen helped me. I couldn't have done it on my own. Nobody could. And you know I'm far from perfect."

"Yes," Loki murmured. He took a deep breath and finally, finally looked at Tony. His voice was clear and steady now. "I was aware your picture in my memory could be nothing but an illusion. Partly it was, but that doesn't matter. I'm not here now because of that illusion. I'm here because I realised reality was different from that memory and still wanted the real you. It's not some imaginary concepts, it's you I love."

His eyebrows wrinkled together with his forehead, and Tony swallowed. He nodded. Licked his lips, because his mouth suddenly felt completely parched. It was the first time he'd heard Loki express his feelings.

_The God of Lies_…

No.

No, those bleeding eyes that harboured oceans of intensity didn't lie. They were either silent or they spoke the truth. Loki could hide the truth behind his eyes, but he couldn't lie that way, not to Tony. Not after everything they'd been through. Not when it came to this.

"I believe you," he said, not caring the least bit if it sounded cheesy or superfluous or whatever-the-hell; he had to say that because Loki needed to hear it, as simple as that, needed to know that here and now his words were not doubted, not scrutinized for ulterior motives or hidden agendas, and not discarded, never that, never discarded as unimportant or unworthy of hearing.

"Okay?" Tony added. He wanted to reach out so badly, cup those razor-sharp cheekbones like he could somehow hold the whole of Loki in just his hands if he did that, like he could cradle his broken heart and press it against his own chest, and perhaps they would morph into one, erasing that angry red line, the past turned crimson, that still shone somewhere between them.

Loki nodded once. "Okay."

Tony nodded too. "I should probably bandage your eyes again. They healed well, but not entirely. I guess at this rate you'll be fine by noon."

Loki didn't seem reassured. His mind must have connected the blackness with something terrible. Tony wasn't sure he wished to know what. But he did reach out now, only enough to get the hold of Loki's hand and cover it with both of his.

"I know you don't want me to. I can leave you like this if you'd prefer, but your eyes will heal faster if the wounds are treated."

A moment, two, three. Thoughts were racing behind Loki's damaged eyes. At last he nodded. Tony felt a certain amount of relief.

"Okay. Do you, um, want to take a shower? I'd offer to help, but … Well. I think you'd rather do it alone."

"Yes."

Loki seemed about to add something more, but Tony beat him.

"Right. I'll get you fresh clothes and … I'll just leave them in front of the door, okay?" He wanted to tell the god to be careful with his eyes but bit his tongue. Loki was a grown man, not a child. Well. A grown god.

"Thank you," he said before getting up—and Tony noticed how his hand gripped the edge of the bed, how he leaned on it just a bit too much—and disappearing into the adjoining bathroom. The billionaire stared at the newly-closed door for a while. Keeping a change of clothes for Loki in his room proved to be a good idea. Perhaps it had been his intuition at work when he'd thought of it. Perhaps the credit went to the past experiences. Or maybe there was a little part of him that hoped against hope he would get to slowly peal layers of clothing off Loki's lithe body, explore every inch of his alabaster skin, and devour him, body and soul, in a whirlwind of passion.

Tony sighed. That was so not happening. Not anywhere in the near future. But he still had two perfectly capable hands, and he really shouldn't be thinking about this when Loki had so obviously broken down not even half an hour ago, not when he had Loki, when they had each other and love and hope, and that was worth so much more. There would still be time for future later.

The clothes Tony had placed down on the floor where snatched up soon. A little later Loki emerged from the bathroom, dressed in black sweatpants and a white hoodie with silver patterns (Tony still didn't know why the god liked hoods so much. He wasn't sure Loki would like it if he alluded it had to do with the horned helmet). Wet strands fell on his shoulders, colouring the fabric a couple of shades darker. Tony grabbed a fresh towel and the first aid kit from the bathroom (and no, that bloody knife was no longer in the cupboard).

"Sit down, babe." He indicated the bed and plopped onto the mattress himself. Loki lowered himself with more grace, though not with his usual unreachable elegance. Tony shifted a little so that he was behind the Trickster, picked up the towel, and covered Loki's hair with it.

"You okay with this?" he murmured.

Loki nodded, not completely relaxed, but Tony trusted his judgement, even though he wished Loki would lean back onto him while he towelled his hair. Most of all he wished Loki wouldn't have the reason for being uncomfortable, but being a genius sadly didn't come with the ability to undo the past. Maybe he should start working on it. A time machine …

Tony worked in silence. He cleaned Loki's face (the god didn't so much as twitch), bandaged his eyes, and pretended he didn't see how Loki gripped the edge of the bed when he could no longer see.

"There. All done, Snowflake."

Loki's lips twitched, not quite because he was humoured, but not in resentment either. "What did you call me?"

"Snowflake. I thought my nicknames for you rather lack diversity." Well, at least his terms of endearment did.

Loki sighed. Tony imagined he would have rolled his eyes. Perhaps he did, under the bandage. Anyhow, he climbed onto the bed, lying down.

"Stark," he said. "Could you …"

"What? And you can call me Tony, you know."

"I know."

"Then why … won't you?"

The billionaire understood it created distance, he really did, but he wished Loki could forgo that distance, stop attempting to keep him at arm's length, even if he knew things couldn't change overnight.

Loki pressed his lips together.

Now, there had to be something Tony could say, right? Pepper always knew these things; what would she say?

But he wasn't Pepper. He'd had enough emotional turmoil for one night, he'd said all he knew how to say, and what if he uttered the wrong thing now?

"You don't have to if you don't feel comfortable with it," he said at last. "I don't mind."

"But you wish I would call you by your name."

What was that about being too perceptive again?

"Yeah. It's not my decision to make though."

Loki blindly reached out in his direction, and Tony caught his hand, gently squeezing it.

"You'll stay here?" the god asked. "Tony?"

"Of course I will." He pressed a kiss to Loki's knuckles, hearing the Trickster exhale deeply.

"Talk about something."

Tony's eyebrows rose. "About what?"

"I don't know. Could you just … talk? Please?"

"Yes, I …"

He had no idea what to say. Pretending everything was fine and speaking of old times and funny anecdotes—well, he feared his stomach might not agree with that right now. Somebody should notify the Guinness Book of Records. Anthony Edward Stark—speechless and dead serious.

"I can read something," he suggested. "If you don't mind listening to Shakespeare. It's the only book I have in here right now."

"It does not matter."

"All right."

He fished the book, the old, damaged book, out of his nightstand—since Loki had been staying in the tower, he no longer kept it under the pillow—and flipped it open with one hand; the god refused to let go of his other one. Then, remembering something, he momentarily closed the book again and threw blankets over their bodies.

His voice, quiet and perhaps a little strange, seeing as the words his lips shaped were so very different from his usual manner of speech, filled the room, images of times long since passed and realities that never had been entered his mind. He didn't really need the book, although it made things easier.

In time, Loki's hold on his hand loosened a little. His breathing became deeper and more relaxed. Tony kept reading for a while longer before he put the book away.

"You sleeping, babe?" he whispered. When he got no response, he leaned down, planting a feather-light kiss on the other's forehead. Then he let his own head sink onto the pillow.

How was it fair that pain could be inflicted so easily and took such a long time to fade?

Tony closed his eyes.

And would Loki throw him out of the window again if he actually started calling him Snowflake?

* * *

A/N: Odin is complicated. Really. I mean, I obviously believe he loves Loki, but he totally sucks at showing it and raising kids, and he really doesn't know Loki too well ... I think. About making him cry ... In Thor, Odin sheds a tear when Thor is about to die, but he doesn't when Loki lets go. So yeah, he cares more about Thor. But let's face it, he saw Loki being tortured and raped and whatnot, he probably would cry (a little).

Some of the things Loki says to Tony when he's explaining his take on their first meeting in the tower is based on the things mentioned here: chaperoned dot livejournal dot com slash 96125 dot html. You should totally read the whole thing, it's brilliant.

And if you're interested in mythology!Loki, you should read Runemarks by Joanne Harris. It's an amazing book. Like, really amazing.

You can also find my fic on AO3 now, under the same name (and user name).

That's probably it. If anyone's found some amazing Frostiron fic lately, do let me know, okay? Please? And drop a review, they mean the world to me.


	18. Chapter 18: February 11 (Part II)

A/N: Oh my god, I just saw Iron Man-it was awesome! Well, the edning is ... somewhat, um, special, but seriously, awesome movie. Go watch it. It won't affect this fic though. There's not too much left, really.

Music ...Part I: Memoirs of Geisha—Sayuri's Theme; Part II & III: Astro Piazzolla—Soledad; Last part: Junjou Romantica—Kanashimi no Riyuu

Oh, right, unbetad. I'm sure I overlooked some typos ...

* * *

**February 11****th ****(Part II)**

The darkness was cold and horizontal. There were faces hidden somewhere in there, all kinds of expressions, threatening, reassuring, hateful, cold. Warm. Yinsen's face stood out.

The world shifted and they were standing. Some of the faces disappeared, and then more and more and more, but one remained in the back, pale, sharp-featured, closed off. Tony's gaze travelled past Yinsen to the silent god and back again. What was that? Was he supposed to do something? Allowed to do anything?

Words did not exist here, but slowly Yinsen smiled, so everything must be all right, Tony felt warm too, and the other's eyes guided the inventor's gaze to Loki again, and his smile said 'yes' to something, whatever it was, but it was okay, it was all okay …

There was a scream, almost causing Tony to shriek as well as his consciousness was forced to kick in again and he found himself in the perfectly normal darkness, the one always competing with his arc reactor. His mind got as far as to process that he was in bed before something hit him in the shoulder.

Loki.

Tony turned in a nanosecond. He grabbed the god's arms and _shook_. Loki stilled for a moment, then chocked on another scream and violently tried to get away. Before Tony managed to let go, they both stumbled to the floor. He cursed, Loki gasped for air, then all was silent save for the sound of ragged breathing.

"Loki?"

"Yes?"

"Do you …" Tony pushed himself into a sitting position. His fingertips touched Loki's arm. "Do you need anything?"

The god forced his body to move. He felt around for Tony's hand and wrapped his fingers around it.

"Hey, I'm here." Tony carefully started to pull him closer but stopped the moment he felt resistance. "You want me to get you anything?"

Once again Loki didn't respond. Tony didn't mind too much. He squeezed his hand just to show he really was here and wasn't going to disappear. They sat like this for a while, not speaking, barely moving. Loki's hand became warmer in Tony's.

"Perhaps you have more sedatives?"

_Oh_. The pang of pain stopped Tony's heart for a fraction of a moment. Maybe that was why his brain decided to choose a completely random response.

"Hey, you stopped talking all Shakespeare like! Thor would probably say something like doth thou mayhap possess yadda yadda yadda."

"I've been on Earth for a while."

"See? Earth. Not Midgard."

Loki tensed. "Does it bother you?"

"What?" Tony arched his eyebrows. "No! It's actually rather cute."

Okay, maybe he shouldn't have said that, seeing as Loki huffed in annoyance (which wasn't completely not-cute either, and oh gods, Tony needed his brain checked, because huffing and snorting and whatnot was not supposed to be adorable; the same went for sitting upside down, or never drinking from the bottle, or licking Nutela off the fingers, which was not nearly as adorable as it was hot and … No. Bad Tony).

"I can give you sleeping pills."

"They will suffice."

"And here I thought you stopped sounding fancy …" Tony rose. The room spun around. Pressing a hand to his forehead, he took a couple of deep breaths. His head was throbbing, now that he thought about it. A moment or two later his vertigo subsided.

It had been a while since he'd needed sleeping pills, but he still kept them. Or what was left of them anyway; he only found one in the box.

"Jarvis, add sleeping pills to the shopping list."

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy."

Tony stumbled into the bathroom, filled a glass with water, and gave both it and the pill to Loki, who'd climbed back onto the bed.

"No idea how long you'll be out from just that, but I'm out of pills, so …" He cocked his head, shrugging, but it caused a new wave of dizziness to wash over him. And damn, his head …

Dehydration. Of course. Tony nearly facepalmed. He'd forgotten to drink, had forgotten to eat, ignored everything that wasn't Loki or for Loki. Well, all things came with a price. He licked his lips. Drinking a couple of long gulp in the bathroom could only do so much for his mouth and throat, but it was better than nothing.

"You want me to read again?"

Loki shrugged. "Might as well."

Well, Tony could certainly see the overabundance of enthusiasm, although he was rather sure Loki liked his reading a lot more than he'd ever admit. He was who he was, and he kept his heart hidden. Mostly.

"Okay then."

Loki curled up on his side, Tony sat down beside him. It was a good thing he knew Shakespeare by heart; keeping his eyes opened proved to be a very difficult task. Talking with a parched throat as well. But Loki looked relaxed, and Tony kept weaving stories with his words until he nearly dozed off. Shaking his head (not a good idea), he forced his mind back into awareness. Sleeping seemed like the best thing to do, but he had a body to rehydrate. Besides, he'd achieved his purpose—Loki was asleep.

Book still in hand, Tony dragged himself into the kitchen. The air in the lounge room was much too cold due to the broken window, so he was glad when he closed the door behind him.

"Jarvis? How was that about rehydration again? Salt and sugar?"

"In water, sir."

"Of course in water, where else."

Pulling a face, he mixed the beverage and then took a sip, wrinkling his nose.

"Disgusting." Did he really have to drink this? He'd been through worse though. Afghanistan, for example. Obadiah. His father's negligence. Palladium poisoning. Throwing a nuke into space. He'd been down in the dumps, destroyed and drunk half of the time, he'd been imprisoned, tortured, betrayed over and over again, questioned, not trusted, the list was already too long for one lifetime. It was scary how many things he and Loki had in common. It was bad and wrong and unfair and just plain horrible that he could think back and say he'd been lucky after all because the Ten Rings had only demanded weapons and not his being the one who fired them, lucky it had been a workshop he had spend days on end in, not solitary confinement, that he'd only had water and small dark places to fear as opposed to every single touch that was a little too bold, a little too close, maybe lucky that while his father had been a lousy dad he at least hadn't brought Tony up to be dictionary case of internalized racism and a product of lies, and lucky that even when he'd felt completely alone there were still people somewhere out there for whom he could have reached, and that he could even say all that was too sad for words.

Not that it was easy. He wasn't sure he could ever really force the words of recognition past his lips. His wounds had been too deep. Yes, they had healed, but the scars they'd left were ugly, and when somebody happened to look at him the wrong way, or when headlines promised abduction stories, or the world had stopped and went completely silent for a couple of moments at night, they hurt, haunted with memories of spilled blood and torn soul as they were. But then Tony thought about Loki, and for him, only for him, he would be willing to admit he might have been lucky.

Sleep tugged at his eyelids, still he fought it, sipping the spoilt water. What exactly made him do what he did then was beyond him. Perhaps he wanted to remind himself he'd seen the lobby of Hell and escaped, that life went on, and if he could pull through, so could Loki. Perhaps he needed to show himself he was lucky. Perhaps he just thought having it all play out in front of his eyes again would offer him some kind of closure. And perhaps he was exhausted, dehydrated, and emotionally as steady as Earth would be if forced to balance on top of a needle.

He pulled the phone out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

"Jarvis. Afghanistan. Vanko. Palladium. Give me all the files I've got."

Holograms popped into existence. Videos, articles, pictures, everything showing at once, because Tony wanted it that way, liked seeing it all a little blurred, because it had been chaotic in reality as well, or because it hurt less, or because that was the way he remembered now, a piece of this, a part of that.

He forced more water down his throat. Then he buried his face in his hands. If he could just close his eyes and step into darkness …

~*oO*o*Oo*~

He would need to borrow half the hands of New York's population to count on their fingers the times Pepper had woken him up and a quarter of their hands to count all the ways in which she'd done it. This was the first time, however, that he opened his eyes to Clint's slapping him across the head.

"Ouch!" Tony bolted uprights. "What the hell was that for?"

"Pepper spent like two years trying to shake you awake."

"She … Oh."

Tony rubbed his eyes. His neck was stiff, his headache still as stubbornly present as before, and he'd done himself no favours by having dozed off. His fingers felt a strange line on his cheek; he'd fallen asleep on the Shakespeare book. The glass next to his hand was half empty. The holographic displays were gone.

"What are you guys doing here?"

Sure, Clint and Natasha were early risers, always having finished a round of training when Tony crawled out of his bed, and Steve didn't really need all that much sleep, but they had a perfectly functional kitchen downstairs.

"Pepper came by. We thought we'd say hallo. And I've always wanted to wake you up."

"You mean slap me." Tony downed the rest of his drink. "Morning," he said to the other three. The world spun a little when he stood up to pour himself more of the mixture he'd prepared.

"Starting that early?" Natasha raised an eyebrow and cocked her head in the direction of the bottle.

"Yeah, Tony Stark deluxe. Wanna try? It's disgusting."

"Tony, are you all right?" Pepper leaned against the counter next to him.

He shrugged. "Considering I feel the way my lounge room looks … What time is it?"

"Almost eight." She leaned towards the glass in Tony's hand. "This doesn't smell like alcohol."

"That would be because it isn't. It's enriched water. Where's Bruce?"

"Sleeping, I suppose," Steve said.

"U-huh. Okay. Would somebody make breakfast? We've got royal guests, and I want to go and find some painkillers."

"Wait! Here." Pepper held a small box out to him. "Jarvis told me you wanted them. I stopped at the medical bay on my way here."

Sleeping pills. He pocketed them.

"Thanks."

"No problem. You should eat something, Tony."

He shook his head. "'m not hungry."

Pepper crossed her arms on her chest. "I wasn't asking if you were hungry. Steve, would you mind baking some eggs? They should be in the refrigerator; Jarvis makes sure Tony doesn't starve to death."

Steve nodded. The opening and closing of cupboards and drawers was the only sound in the room for a while. Tony, sipping water every few seconds, slumped in a chair and leaned his chin on his hand. The other one he used to pull the book closer.

"You read Shakespeare."

It was perhaps one part question, three parts statement, exactly what would be expected from Natasha.

"Yeah. So what?"

"Nothing."

"That's an old book you got there," Clint remarked. "I mean, why don't you throw it away and buy a new one?"

"I wouldn't suggest that." Pepper turned away from the counter to face them. "He sleeps with it under his pillow."

This might have even been funny if the memories attached weren't so serious. Tony shot Pepper a look. "I don't," he retorted.

Clint's face split into a grin, and even Natasha seemed to smile a little. "Oh, you totally do."

"Do what?" Bruce slipped into the room. "Morning. What did I miss?"

"Tony sleeps with a tattered Shakespeare book under his pillow."

Tony was in Clint's face before the archer had a chance to blink. Teeth bared and fingers spread on the table, he sucked in a breath to spit something at the other man, but no words came. Instead he felt a hand on his shoulder, no, two different hands, which guided him back onto his chair.

"I'm sorry." Pepper moved to his side. "I didn't know it was that bad."

"I told you it wasn't a happy story," Tony grunted.

"But nothing more."

"I don't want to talk about it." Okay, maybe his response came out too much like snapping if the look of hurt on Pepper's face was anything to go by. A knot formed in his throat. He just didn't want to see any more pain.

"Sorry. You too." He turned to Clint.

The archer shrugged. "It's fine. You seem strung up. Try getting laid, I think you need that."

Maybe he did. Soft alabaster skin pressed against his own, pupils blown wide, soft moans escaping parted lips, the pale column of Loki's neck … The tension in his muscles, guarded fear in his green eyes, bloody tears running down pale cheeks. No. Just no.

"Thanks for the advice, but leave my sex life alone."

Clint sighed. "Look, I understand, you're besotted or whatever, but if you and your darling really had something … Well, spreading legs isn't so hard, and if it is, you can just end the monogamy."

The glares he received from both women present would have punched holes through him if Tony's gaze hadn't finished him off first. The inventor's blood boiled. Nobody, _nobody_ had the right to talk that way about Loki, about _his_ Loki.

"Don't _ever_. Say. Something like that. Again. Or I'll throw you out." It wasn't like he hadn't shown the door to anybody of greater importance before.

"Tony." That was Bruce's voice, wasn't it?

"My sex life is not up for discussion."

"Tony."

"It's not!"

"Tony, sit down."

Was he … Oh.

He took a deep breath. In, out. In, out. Damn it, talking about Loki like he was a whore … Pressing his lips tightly together, Tony lowered himself down again. The tension in the air was palpable. Silence itched.

Steve put down the knife he'd been using to cut bacon. "You should both apologize. We're a team, remember?"

Clint rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Sorry then. You usually don't mind that kind of stuff."

Well, usually he wasn't dehydrated, sporting the migraine of the century, and having a broken god in his bedroom.

"Tony," Steve prompted.

"Sorry," Tony said through his teeth. He was a nervous wreck, he knew. And he was out of his drink. Well, making more should be fun. Approximately as much as listening to Fury. Or the board members. Yeah, the board members.

He pushed to his feet, turned towards the counter—

His eyes landed on Loki, who stood in the doorway, one pale hand closed around the doorframe. He wore the clothes Tony had given him. The ends of his hair rested on his shoulders, his face showed no emotion. The bandages were still in place.

Tony must have frozen or something, because Pepper filled the spot next to him and very subtly stepped on his foot.

"Good morning," she said, approaching the god. Of course she would handle the situation. "Do you need anything?"

"Something to drink. Please."

Pepper nodded, and Tony's brain finally started to function again. He didn't even know why it had shut off. Sure, Loki was terribly handsome, but that usually didn't freeze the billionaire to the spot.

"Give him apple juice," he whispered to Pepper, knowing a bit about Loki's taste by now. He made a few steps forward. "Morning."

Loki nodded shortly. His hand hadn't left the doorframe. The grip wasn't too tight—the knuckles hadn't turned white—but it was firm and perhaps just a little bit desperate. Then again, that was speculation.

Before he could open his mouth again, Bruce spoke,

"How are your eyes?"

"Nearly healed." Did Loki go a little stiff? "Thank you."

Bruce either didn't notice or didn't care. "You're welcome."

Pepper returned with a glass. Loki reached out and she just pressed it into his hand when Steve dropped bacon into the pan. It made a sizzling noise, its smell filled the air. Loki froze. Half a moment later he was gone, leaving only thin air in his wake.

At first the sizzling continued to be the only sound. Then came the screeching of chair-legs against the floor. A clicking sound followed. Tony felt hot breath on his neck.

"What did you do?" Pepper whispered slowly.

Tony swallowed.

"Jarvis? How literally did the old man take my words?"

"He's in the guest room, sir."

"Tell him to get up here, yes?" He inhaled, held his breath for a second, then exhaled. The migraine was killing him. Water. He needed water. "Guys, we had a little visit."

"What did you do?" Pepper repeated just as quietly and just as slowly.

"And Jarv? Add that I apologize and I'm thankful." He leaned his head towards Pepper's ear. "Pepper. I look back on my life"—every word was barely there but oh so clear—"and … and I—I had to do something."

"Okay. Whatever you did, if you thought it was right, it's okay."

His eyebrows nearly touched his hair. "You trust me? You trust Loki?"

Pepper squeezed his forearm.

"What are you two whispering about?" Steve.

"She's scolding me. As per usual. Oh, ballet boy, the bacon's burning."

"Stark, stop it." Yep, he'd been right, the clicking had come from a gun. Natasha's gun. "Loki just used magic."

"Yeah, I saw."

"And you're not worried?" Clint slammed his hands down on the table. "That guy turned me into his fucking minion!"

"That guy is my son."

If Tony hadn't been expecting Odin to show up, he'd have suffered a heart attack right now. Not that he didn't know how it had to feel like if your heart stopped.

"Odin Allfather." Steve stepped forwards. He looked a little … awestruck? A quick turn told Tony the whole team had 'respect' written in their eyes, in one way or another, and he pressed his lips together. They didn't know the god had successfully raised a child to hate himself and apparently never cared to listen (although Loki probably hadn't made that last thing any easier).

"Welcome to Earth."

Odin's gaze flitted to Tony. "Opinions seem to differ."

Was that meant for him or for both him and Loki? "I apologized. I meant what I said, though." And yes, he still meant it no matter how Odin's brow furrowed or eye narrowed.

"I would have words with you in private, Mr Stark."

He shrugged. "Fine with me."

"Excuse me, would somebody explain what's going on here?" Clint demanded, face still clouded.

"Cap's bacon's burning. My kitchen's gonna smell for weeks. Like having snow in the living room is not enough."

"Knock it off, Stark," Natasha said. Her gun was lowered but still tightly clasped in her hand. "How could Loki just disappear? How did he get his magic back?"

Not how. Why—that was the real question. Why he'd got his magic back. Why he'd disappeared when he could have simply walked away. It hadn't been for show. Tony could practically feel the answer forming in the back of his mind, but he couldn't reach it no matter how hard he tried; it was too evasive.

"It was my decision."

"My brother has magic back?"

"Oh, hi Thor." Tony waved in the direction of the door where the Thunderer's head had appeared.

"Good morning. Father, is it true?"

Odin nodded and Thor beamed, just beamed like some great weight had fallen off his shoulders, and how Tony envied him for that; he still felt like he had a Hulk sitting on each shoulder.

"Okay, hold on." Clint made a step forward. "So Loki spends a month or so here and that's it?"

Thor had been on Earth for three days. But Tony didn't say that. The look Odin gave the archer satisfied him, even though he still didn't care much for the god.

"You would do well not to judge what you do not know."

Tony barely held back a snort. If he hadn't done the same thing in the past, he wouldn't have even bothered.

"My decision stands," Odin added. "Thor, would you accompany me home later?"

"Aye. What is this all about?"

For a moment father and son shared a look, and something in Tony's chest tightened. Family.

"I have announcements to make. Mr Stark, come."

Tony forced his muscles to move when he felt Pepper's hand on his arm.

"Can this not wait?" She addressed the king with the confidence she always portrayed when giving a statement to this journalist or that, or getting Tony out of trouble, or standing up to Fury, or … She used it a lot, actually. "Tony needs rest."

"I don't—"

"Tony." She gave him a Look. "I saw the lovely videos you used to put yourself to sleep. Whatever made you do that …"

"I needed to remind myself."

"Remind of what?"

That he hadn't been alone. That he'd survived. That he could sleep again because the nightmares were a rare enough occurrence. That this place he and Loki had found themselves in wasn't hopeless.

Pepper shook her head helplessly. "You've always been self-destructive."

"I'm not trying to destroy myself." Tony poured fresh water into the bottle, threw in a bit of salt, and reached for sugar. "It's not like I haven't spent weeks in my workshop without eating or sleeping properly."

"Your PTSD is back?" Steve threw the burnt bacon into the trash can.

"Not exactly." Tony shook the bottle to mix the contents. "All right, Alldaddy, there's just one little thing I've got to do first, and then we can talk."

"Take care how you speak," Thor started, but Odin held up a hand, effectively silencing him. Tony took a sip and made for the door. Pepper caught his wrist. Their gazes met in a silent moment.

"You go with Odin. I'll handle it."

Honestly, the amount of trust he was getting lately freaked him out just a little. Okay, maybe more than just a little.

"So, if I'm not back in a reasonable amount of time … I did actually manage to have the will-thing done, so don't kill yourself over my money, kids." He pulled the pills out of his pocket and squeezed them in Pepper's hand. A short nod, then he waved at Odin to follow him.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

"So." Tony placed his elbows on the desk, entwined his fingers, and leaned his chin onto them. "What is it?"

Odin took a couple of second to let his gaze wander over the office. "Mind your words," he said slowly. "I am only willing to forgive your rudeness because you seek to defend Loki. Your behaviour is disrespectful and shameful for a warrior such as you."

"Respect is earned."

Tense silence lay over them. Tony sipped his disgusting water again, eyes never leaving Odin.

"Yes," the king said finally.

"Good to know we agree. Look, we're not here so you can lecture me or whatever. We're here because of Loki. So yeah, I apologize for the lack of politeness and whatnot, but it is for his sake only. Can we please get this over with so I can find him?"

"My son loves you."

"So?"

"He would listen to you."

Listen yes. Do what Tony told him to do just because Tony told him to? Not a chance.

"I would like to talk to him."

"I'll tell him. It doesn't mean he'll agree."

Odin sighed. "I know. It seems I've brought this upon myself." He looked old suddenly. Not that he seemed young otherwise, far from it, but somehow there was this weight pressing down on him again. "There have been too many mistakes."

If Howard were alive, would he be sorry he'd been a lousy father? Had he perhaps regretted it? Tony didn't believe in afterlife, but if there was anything after death, he'd want to find his father and ask him that: had he not known how to raise a child any better, or had he simply not cared to try?

"I'll tell Loki." The tone of his voice was much kinder now; the aggression had dissipated.

"Thank you. And thank you for all you've done for the nine realms. We shall not forget."

Whether that was the real we or the royal we, Tony didn't care. "I did it for Loki," he said. "Maybe you should thank him." Acknowledge him, though he was not sure Loki still wished for that. But if the Trickster was anything like Tony himself—and he was, of course he was—then he would always crave his father's praise, no matter what had happened between them or how badly he wanted to deny it. Not as badly as to be dependent on it—been there, done that—but just a little, secretly, like Tony sometimes imagined that Howard would be proud if he saw the arc reactor, because the older Stark was dead now and could no longer surpass what Tony did, and nobody else could either, so maybe he would be a bit proud. And Loki probably craved the same. Not to hear the praise, not anymore, just to see one single look with a snippet of pride somewhere deep in that piercing blue eye.

Even if he didn't really care for it anymore. But Tony knew: where you once loved, it was impossible to ever be completely indifferent.

He sighed. "Let Jarvis know if you need anything."

"Anthony Stark."

"Yes?"

"Please, take care of my son."

Their eyes met, blue and brown both searching for something. Tony nodded.

"I will."

~*oO*o*Oo*~

He found Loki outside, sitting on the stairs and having foregone any extra clothes again, completely the opposite of Pepper, who was wrapped in her coat and scarf. Tony was too. Wind tussled with their hair and played with bandages hanging around Loki's neck.

"Hey."

Pepper turned. "How did it go?"

"Okay. We're both still in possession of all our limbs. Seems like victory to me."

"Whatever you say. Are you feeling better?"

"Kind of." Painkillers helped. His drink was still just as yucky. "I'll be okay."

She nodded. With a pat on his shoulder, she strode to the door and disappeared inside. Tony lowered himself onto the stairs.

"Hey, snowflake."

Loki tore his gaze away from the closed notebook in his lap and glanced at Tony. "Hi."

"How are you doing?"

A shrug. "Fine."

The corner of Tony's mouth twitched, but it had nothing to do with humour. "Yeah, that's what people expect to hear. I'm really asking you here, you know."

Slowly Loki exhaled. His breath formed a misty cloud for a moment. "I want to get out of my head."

He'd wanted honesty, hadn't he? Well, there you go.

"I'm sure there are many wonderful things inside your head."

Loki just looked at him with sad green eyes. The skin around them was still a little pink and probably terribly sensitive, and Tony sighed.

"Sorry. I know that kind of stuff doesn't help one bit."

He reached up, untangled his scarf, and carefully wrapped it around Loki's neck. The god remained motionless. Waiting another moment, Tony slid closer until his knee touched Loki's. The latter didn't move away, which counted as success.

"Your eyes healed quickly."

"I did all I could."

"You used magic."

"Yes."

"Could you … Could you repair the lounge room?"

Loki didn't answer right away. His eyes strayed to the horizon and settled on some infinitely distant spot.

"Not right now," he muttered. "I shouldn't have depleted my magic right after getting it back, but I … it happened subconsciously."

Tony placed his hand on Loki's upper arm, then let it slide over his back to the other side until it was wrapped around the god's shoulders.

"I lost control," Loki added, gaze shifting to his hands. "I'd never lost it before."

"Your magic was unstable, wasn't it? And you've been hurt. It doesn't mean you're incapable of controlling it or anything."

Loki sighed. His fingers played with the edge of the notebook's cover.

"What's inside?"

"Drawings."

"Mhm." And Tony wanted to see them, itched to see, but he wasn't about to ask. Not now anyway. "I suck at drawing. Except plans. That I'm good at."

"I've always liked art," Loki said quietly. He shifted just a bit closer to Tony. "My mother taught me to draw. Thor's never mastered it. His horses looked like a mixture of a donkey and a pig."

It was a little funny, but Tony's brain barely registered the last part. All his thoughts remained stuck at 'my mother'. So there was somebody Loki still counted as family. If the billionaire only knew whether breaching the subject would do more good or bad …

"What is it?"

"Hm?"

"Something's bothering you. What is it?"

"You're too damn perceptive, you know that?"

Loki shrugged. "It saved my life a couple of times. Now, what's the problem?"

Tony sighed. He had promised he'd do this …

"Odin wants to talk to you."

Loki's back tensed just the slightest. Tony instinctively pulled him closer, but his gesture was met with resistance. He let go.

"And you think I should."

Busted.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Tony wrapped his arms around himself. It was cold out here; his butt was freezing. At least it wasn't snowing anymore.

"My father was … a very successful man. He found the Tesseract, came up with brilliant ideas he could not yet turn to praxis because he was limited by his time's technology … He lived for his work. And then there was me, a genius child by all standards, except no matter what I did I never managed to truly impress him."

He shifted. Bringing all this up was far from easy.

"We rarely spent time together, especially when I was no longer a small child. I always came second to his work and I hated him for that. And then … my parents died. A car accident. There was speculation about it, but it never really mattered. I grew up still competing with somebody who was already dead. I did everything he could not, used the knowledge he got from the Tesseract. This thing"—he tapped at his chest, indicating the arc reactor—"contains an element I invented with the help of his idea. That was his legacy. He left me a video, telling me I'd change the world. He said I'd always be his greatest creation, and I still don't know if it was meant in a completely good way, or if he's only ever considered me to be just that, just his creation."

He sighed. "But I guess … In spite of everything, he did believe in me, that I would accomplish something greater than he ever could. If I had another chance to talk to him, I'd grab it. I know you can't stand Odin right now, and that's okay. You two are gonna stick around for a long time, but it won't be forever, will it?"

"No."

"He said that the memory reading spell is rarely used. Said you could tell me about it."

"I can."

"The things he saw … Did it make you go through them again?" Tony swallowed, afraid of the answer, but Loki shook his head. His hand found Tony's; the latter pretended not to notice.

"The spell … comes with a price. The caster has to give up as many memories as he gets to see. Good memories. I have no way of knowing what exactly Odin saw, but I doubt looked for many more than was strictly necessary."

"He cried, you know. After he'd done that."

"He did?" Loki's eyebrows arched with honest incredulity.

"Yes."

The Trickster shook his head. "I can't. I can't just forgive him."

"That's your choice."

Loki sighed. He snuggled a little closer to Tony. "Have you forgiven your father?"

Had he? Had he really?

"I think I have. But I'll never forget."

Tony tried embracing the god around the shoulders again, and this time Loki leaned into him. Although his body was cold, a certain kind of warmth filled Tony's insides.

"I'll talk to him," Loki murmured.

"You don't have to do it just because I asked."

"You know me better than to think I would. But I'll do it because you didn't really ask."

Tony gently strengthened his hold. "Have I told you lately that I love you?"

"You might have." Loki's whisper was but a breeze on Tony's lips, and his mouth was soft and a little cold around the edges but so warm inside.

"Would you like to get out of here? The tower, I mean." Tony had been thinking about it before, getting them some peace. "We can go to my mansion, just you and me and no one else. Well, Pepper would want to check if we're still alive from time to time."

"Sounds all right."

Their fingers were still intertwined.

"Then we'll do it. And we're gonna be okay. Eventually. We are. Well, only my ass will probably fall off sometime soon."

Loki's head fell on his shoulder, dark hair tickling his skin, and the god let out a soft chuckle.

"It hurts," he admitted in a small voice, as if saying it quietly would somehow make it less of a display of vulnerability. "It just hurts so bad."

"I know, babe. I'm here."

Loki didn't say anything.

* * *

A/N: Reviews? (Because yes, the ones I've got made me so happy, thank you all you wonderful people out there)

Also, I noticed I got readers from Slovenia. Would you mind letting me know which part of the country you come from? (Curiosity speaking.)


	19. Chapter 19: February 13 - February 16

A/N: Wow. One would think finding time to write sould be easy during holidays. Riiight ...

Thank you for the reviews, and a special thanks to spiders-ilove for proofreading.

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_For most of my life I thought the world was normal, round, safe, populated by people (good and bad) and animals (wild and tame), but then it turns out that's not the way the world is. Reality isn't round, it's flat there are edges where you can fall off._

_~Carrie Jones: Captivate_

**February 13****th**

It wasn't his parent's mansion. That place was still closed up and dusty. One day he would return there, but it wasn't as easy as that. Nothing was easy.

Nobody had bothered them in the last two days. Thor was in Asgard, Natasha and Clint had left at about the same time as the gods, Steve was who knew where, and Bruce was enjoying alone time at Stark tower. Tony suspected Pepper might have had something to do with the doctor's staying there. After all, he wasn't stupid; if he didn't start asking questions about Loki soon, Tony would begin to suspect Pepper guilty of blackmailing or something.

Tony sighed and pushed the balcony door aside.

"Hey, Snowflake. Dinner time."

Loki turned from the railing. "I'm not hungry."

"Mhm." Tony approached, shivering slightly." Is this my scarf? And my coat? Right, of course it's my coat. All right, give it back, I'm freezing."

"You don't need your coat for eating. What have you got?"

Tony pouted. "Nothing, yet. Come on, wanna watch me make pancakes or something?"

"You mean burn the kitchen?"

"I like a good explosion from time to time."

"Don't ask me to clean it." Loki stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Because I won't."

"You could just magic the mess away."

"Or you could learn how to cook."

With that he walked to the door, leaving Tony to stare at his retreating back. Something was wrong. Okay, stupid statement. It was easier to count the things that were _not_ wrong than the ones that were. But when he saw Loki, somebody who's _life_ was dependant on magic, avoiding using spells, it made the alarms in his head blare.

The mansion was haunted by invisible demons, there was no denying it.

"How is that fair?" He hurried after the god. "You're a prince, you shouldn't be able to cook."

Loki smirked. "It's called learning, Stark."

"Tony."

"Anthony." Loki's grin stretched, and the billionaire narrowed his eyes.

"Are you making me correct you on purpose?"

"I would never, _Stark_."

"Tony."

"Stark."

Tony closed the door behind him. "Will you eat something?"

All traces of humour disappeared from Loki's face. He stopped in his tracks.

"I'm not hungry."

He really understood how Pepper felt, now. "Are you avoiding food?"

Loki's eyebrows formed two serious lines. "No. You know that."

"Sometimes, I'm not sure. Wait! Loki!" He dashed forward and caught the Trickster's elbow. "What's wrong? It's just food."

Narrowed green eyes flashed. "Don't force me. Don't _ever_ force me."

Something ugly and painful was hidden behind his words, and Tony slowly loosened his hold. "Okay." He nodded to emphasize the meaning. "Okay. I'm sorry. If you change your mind … I'll be in the kitchen, setting the house on fire."

"You can build a nuke. How is cooking beyond you?"

Tony shrugged. "Nobody's perfect."

Loki's lips formed a small smile. It didn't reach his eyes.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

It was the middle of the night by the time Tony decided to finally go to bed. His eyelids were suddenly abnormally heavy, but he still wanted to find Loki before going to sleep. He had no way of knowing whether the god would be in his bedroom or in Tony's. Sometimes, he wanted to be alone. Other times, his eyes practically begged the inventor to stay.

Tonight, both rooms were empty. Tony found his lover's lean figure curled up on the floor in the living room amid scattered papers, inky hair spilling over a pillow, fingers still half-closed around a pen.

Tony squatted down. He couldn't help himself; Loki's drawings were practically presented to him. He soon wished he hadn't looked, though. Not that there was much to see, but that was the problem. Darkness, darkness, darkness, and shapes lost somewhere in the midst of it.

He ran his fingers through Loki's hair. Muscles tensed and relaxed under his touch. Sighing, he pushed his arms under Loki's now unresponsive body and lifted him up. An empty paper box on the floor told him exactly why those strikingly green eyes were still closed.

**February 15****th**

His arc reactor was gone, his chest on fire. Cruel laughter resonated in his ears, so familiar, too familiar, he was dying, it hurt, and he was scared, _hurt hurt hurt_ …

And then he was gasping for air, and Loki was there, cupping his face and telling him to breathe.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

Fury was still somewhat furious (no pun inten—oh, what the hell, of course it was intended). It wasn't as bad as when he'd found out Loki's punishment had ended without anyone asking him, but he was still grumpy and sounded like somebody had made him swallow a lemon. Or a dozen. He'd wanted to have the god locked up at first, but Loki's eyes had flashed in the most dangerous manner possible, and Tony couldn't help but grin a little when he proceeded to issue some of the most creative and at the same time utterly hilarious threats he'd ever heard. (But really, who would want to have his shower curtains try to start a singing competition every time one wanted to take a shower? And singing Justin Bieber's songs no less. The image of Fury naked in a shower was scary enough, add that 'oh baby baby' thing and—no. Tony did not want to go there. Ever.)

And now SHIELD's director was still bugging Tony, because Loki's explanation that he preferred to stay on Earth for the time being, especially since remaining Tony's personal assistant seemed like a good way to earn money (or Tony could just give it to Loki, but Fury didn't need to know that), hadn't been to Fury's satisfaction at all, so he called, allegedly checking if Tony was still alive and wondering why the hell the inventor was okay with the whole arrangement (clearly, he had no idea how hard it was to get a competent assistant these days). But,Tony suspected the director was actually more concerned about SHIELD's funding than his wellbeing.

And Tony assured him he was in fact still kicking, and no, he didn't know where Loki was right now, was Fury expecting him to stalk the god or something, and when Loki arched his eyebrows, throwing his a questioning look from where he was playing with Lumi, Tony grinned in response and continued lying through his teeth.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

They ended up curled in front of the TV, watching Shrek, because Loki wished to know the origin of the numerous nicknames Tony used. Somewhere around the middle of the third part, Tony started to realise that they were perhaps both afraid to go to sleep. It didn't matter the probability of his having nightmares was small. He couldn't be sure if he'd have them, that _was_ the problem. And Loki's nightmares were a given thing, unless he swallowed half the box of sleeping pills to remain out cold through the whole night.

**February 16****th**

Paperwork was tedious.

Tony set another sheet aside and rubbed his temples. One would think leaving the company in Pepper's capable hands would bring an end to all this, but no, he was still the owner, he was needed, blah blah blah. And he found a small part of him couldn't just let go, no matter how boring some parts of the work were.

That didn't mean Loki's footsteps didn't sound like a promising distraction.

"Hey, babe," he greeted without lifting his gaze.

"Tony."

The billionaire immediately looked up. Loki was gripping the backrest of the couch, his breathing laboured, white-knuckled hands trembling.

"Shit." Tony was at his side in a moment. "What's wrong?"

"Can we go outside?"

"Outside? Did something happen?"

Loki shook his head.

Okay. This looked a lot like a panic attack. Tony was familiar with that. He could handle it. He could. Right?

"All right. You want to sit down? Come on."

His fingertips gently touched Loki's elbow to guide him around the couch and down onto it.

"Okay. Focus on your breathing, babe, yeah?"

Loki nodded once. He gripped Tony's hands (well, there went his blood circulation) while the latter counted breaths in an attempt to calm the god down enough to get a wet washcloth or something, because that was definitely sweat breaking out on Loki's brow. Maybe he should have brought Dummy here with him.

It didn't take too long. Loki was reluctant to let him go (and Tony wasn't about to remind him he was crushing his hands), but he did after all, and they spent the next ten minutes on the couch, Loki with a wet towel pressed to his neck, Tony carefully watching.

"You still want to go out?"

"Yes."

Well, they had spent most of the time indoors, and fresh air had never really hurt anybody. At least … not badly.

"All right then."

They got dressed (Tony keeping an eye on the Trickster just in case), pulled their hoods up, Tony in an attempt to disguise his identity and Loki because, well, because, and walked out. It was only the middle of the afternoon, but heavy clouds obscured the sky, so it was practically dark already. They walked in silence. Eventually their hands found each other.

"I listened to your press conference," Loki said out of the blue, making Tony stop right on the spot.

"Oh. And?"

Loki turned to face him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. For what?"

"For apologizing. For … For knowing what you were apologizing for and for meaning it. It doesn't … happen often."

"Well, I was really sorry." He pushed a stray lock of hair back under Loki's hood.

"Thor never did that," Loki murmured. "He kept trying to remind me how we'd been such great brothers, how much fun we'd had. The only time he said he was sorry he had no idea what he was even apologizing for."

"Give him time. Give yourself time."

Loki nodded. He brought Tony's hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Nobody needed to know the billionaire's legs felt like they turned into jelly whenever he did that, or how his breathing hitched, or how his chest tightened for just a moment, because he was suddenly aware of how very much he loved the messed-up god, and that was just overwhelming. A kiss suddenly seemed like a very good idea.

But in the end, it was Loki who leaned in first.

It was also Loki who pulled away a second or two after their lips had made contact.

* * *

A/N: To all Justin Bieber fans - I didn't mean to insult anyone and I'm sorry if I did. And to everyone - please, leave a reivew (I'll send you cookies) ... ^^

And yes, I left Valientine's day out on purpose. I don't think Tony and Loki are in a state where that would be a priority ...


	20. Chapter 20: February 18

A/N: Huhh... The beginning of this chapter was a bitch to write, really... But there it is, now XD

Thank you for your lovely reviews, and thanks to spider-ilove for being an awesome beta!

I listened to Tor Jaran Apold—Norwegian Folk Song, and Junjou Romantica—Kanashimi no Riyuu most of the time.

* * *

**February 18****th**

_Tears fall inside the dream, our last days gone by,  
Still alive we feel the pain tonight,  
Stars fall through blackened clouds, in dreams sadness reigns,  
A twilight star in the thousand lights for me_

_~Dragon Force: A Flame for Freedom_

Tony was perched on the edge of the kitchen table, stealing pieces of apples Loki was cutting and placing into a bowl (the god had stopped smacking his fingers after the first couple of times, assuring Tony he could continue with his work longer than the man could eat, meaning he would eventually get to bake whatever he was planning to bake; Tony just hoped he would eat it, too) when his phone rang.

The number was unknown to him, but he picked up anyway.

"Hallo?"

"Friend Stark!"

_Jesus_ … He held the phone away from his ear for a moment and stalked out of the kitchen into the open living room.

"All right, I think I've gone deaf, so say something, yeah?"

"Why would you be deaf?"

"No idea, Thor. Would you stop shouting, I can hear you perfectly well."

"I am not shouting, friend Stark."

He would swear he heard a frown in Thor's voice, and what was is with these gods and their inability to call him Tony?

"You're not calling from Neverland, are you?"

"I have never heard of such a place," Thor said, voice slightly quieter. "I am with Jane."

"Uh huh. How's Asgard?" Tony dropped onto a couch.

"All is well. Father announced that he'd received news of an old enemy's defeat, that Loki had served his punishment, and that Asgard would continue to strive towards better relations with Jotunheim."

"Hm." That was good news, Tony supposed, but it was all so vague. "And which enemy was that?"

"He was called the Mad Titan, I believe, exiled from the Nine Realms before I was even born. I did not know of him."

"U-huh," Tony said again. Some things made no sense here, but he had a good idea where he might find the answers. That was if Loki would be willing to share them. "So. What's up?"

At least the Thunderer had spent enough time on Earth to understand _that._

"I would like to introduce Jane to the Avengers. And … my brother. Could we perhaps impose on your hospitality?"

If this was only about him, then yeah, why not? But, it concerned Loki, as well. Although Tony could arrange a meeting for the team if Loki chose not to participate, he had to at least ask him.

"Um, I have to check. I'll let you know, okay?"

"All right. I thank you for your kindness."

"Umm, riiight … Well, then. Bye."

"Goodbye."

Tony threw the phone onto the couch and sighed, taking a moment for himself. He had a conversation wai—

"What did he want?"

Tony pushed himself up and looked over the backrest. "Your talk with Odin. You asked him not to disclose any details?"

Loki cut the apple he was holding in half, dropped both parts onto the table, and slowly set the knife aside. Their gazes met.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why not? What does it matter now? Thanos is dead. Unless …" His brow furrowed. "Unless you wish to experience the glory such a deed earns you? I can … tell that to Odin if you want."

"What? No! It's not about that! You could have shown people you were forced into attacking Earth!"

Loki's eyes caught his gaze.

"I'm a liar, Stark."

"But Odin—"

"Is a liar, too. They would hate me either way. Now, what did Thor want?"

Tony sighed. "He wishes to bring Jane over so she could meet the Avengers. And … well, you."

Loki froze for a moment. A carefully crafted mask of impassiveness covered his features.

"Jane Foster," he repeated slowly. Tony didn't like the tone of his voice; there was something ugly in it, something sorrowful and hateful and dark. He pushed to his feet and walked over to Loki, placing both hands on his shoulders from behind (and if Loki twitched just the slightest, nobody needed to point it out).

"Snowflake." Tony tried to keep his voice soft. "What happened?"

Loki sucked in a breath. His shoulders sagged a little when he exhaled, and Tony started rubbing gentle circles into them.

"Thor was … Did he ever tell you this?"

"No." Tony continued massaging Loki's shoulders in hopes of getting the god to relax. "He never really wanted to talk about the past."

And maybe it shouldn't surprise him that Loki snorted. Hadn't he promised, sometime in the past, he'd stop being surprised?

"Would you look at that, we actually have a thing in common."

"You two and about seven billion other people living on this planet." With Tony right on top of the list. Written in capital letters. With red ink. Or red and gold, since it was him.

Loki sighed, letting his head fall back against Tony's abdomen. The billionaire's hands travelled up Loki's neck, slowly massaging his scalp. He didn't mention the moan, the quiet, just-this-side-of-audible moan, that slipped past the god's lips.

"Let's go some place more comfortable, shall we?"

Loki only hummed in response, but he got up and settled on a couch, tucking one leg under himself. Tony sat down beside him, leaning on a bunch of pillows lying around.

"Thor was to become the king," Loki broke the silence. "I was… happy for him. I'd known for a long time he'd be the one to get the throne, and… I didn't… I didn't really mind, I think.

"But Thor wasn't ready. He was reckless, he was arrogant, rash… Fighting was the pinnacle of his world. He would mess up at some point. Father refused to see it, because Thor was… Thor, the golden son, the… Everybody refused to see it. So I brought a group of Jotnar to Asgard on the day of his coronation. They reached the weapon vault, the Destroyer did its work, Odin was willing to forget the episode because of the truce he had with Laufey, the Jotun king. Thor, not so much. All it took were a few careful words. I merely told him I thought he was right about the situation. The next minute, he dragged me and his friends to Jotunheim."

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his forehead. His expression was strained. Not too much, but enough.

"We were never supposed to even get there. I had a message delivered to Odin, but …" He made a vague gesture with his hand. "Naturally, we lost. Odin saved the day. Took Thor's powers and banished him. Just like _that_."

And from the way Loki's voice trembled just a little at 'that', Tony figured 'that' had never been supposed to happen.

"When we were fighting in Jotunheim …"—Loki was dragging the words out—"one of the Jotnar touched Volstagg. His skin turned black from frostbite. And one …"

"Yes?" Tony's hands found their way to Loki's shoulders again.

"Grabbed my arm. It turned blue." Loki's voice was down to a whisper. "I didn't understand. It wasn't hard to figure out, but in that moment …"

"Hey …" Tony ran a hand thought those pitch black strands and pulled Loki closer. "I get it. I know. I had a missile with my name on it explode in my face. Nothing made sense then."

Loki nodded weakly. "Odin told me I was… There'd been a war between the Jotnar and the Aesir. The Aesir won. They took their power source, the Casket of Ancient Winters, from Jotunheim. Odin also... took me."

Loki swallowed. "He said he'd found me in a temple, abandoned and left to die, and maybe that's true; I'm a runt, why would they want me?"

"But?"

"But who leaves a child they want to get rid of in a temple? They would only need to toss me into a precipice, or leave me outside, or feed me to the beasts, I'm sure they could find some out there. Why the temple?"

"You think Odin stole you."

Loki's gaze turned sharp. "I was just the means to an end, somebody he could use to unite the two kingdoms. Some_thing_ he could use. When Thor marched to Jotunheim, this plan shattered."

"So, you think he did steal you."

"I don't know. I just don't know anymore. Maybe he did. Maybe he thought I was abandoned and saw a great opportunity. But, it wasn't out of love that he took me. My life was a lie because of his political ambitions. I didn't even serve my purpose in the end. Though… If I'd found that way, if he'd told me when he was about to put me on Jotunheim's throne…"

He didn't need to finish; Tony understood.

"Odin fell into Odinsleep. It is similar to what you call coma, only he remains aware of his surroundings, and it restores his powers. Because Thor was gone… I was placed on the throne. I… Jotunheim was a threat. Something needed to be done. And it would have been so _simple_ if… If they… If everyone…"

Loki's lips parted in search for words, but no sound came out. Tony's fingers found their way into Loki's hair again. The god's eyes fluttered. Tony continued to draw patterns on his scalp. Loki leaned into the touch. _(A Christmas tree. A gloved hand on a pale cheek. Green eyes snapping open.) _

Tony waited silently. If Loki didn't add anything, well, he couldn't force him. That burning curiosity would just have to wait.

"They never gave me a chance," Loki suddenly whispered, causing Tony to lean closer still, so that he could hear. "Like the fact I became king—no, not even king, regent—meant I—I don't even know. Like it was all a part of some diabolical plan. They wanted Thor back even though he was banished. Like me on the throne was the worst thing that could happen to Asgard, like … Nobody even acknowledged me as their ruler. My becoming a regent was enough of a crime that they needed to save Asgard, or … or … I didn't_ do _anything! They broke their oaths to bring Thor back, that alone was enough to earn banishment, and I needed Thor gone, but they never even gave me a chance, they never—I could never be their king, I—"

He gasped for air, hands gripping the leather of the couch.

"Loki."

The god looked up. His eyes were wide, and wild, and glistening, and his lips twitched.

"I knew they didn't like me," he said slowly. "I was tolerated by them, they were tolerated by me, we were never exactly nice to each other. But I thought they would at least respect the laws. I _was_ their king, it didn't matter how or why, or if I wanted to be in the first place. Turned out even then it was still me against the rest, and I just couldn't do it anymore."

"'They' are Thor's friends, aren't they?"

Loki nodded. Tony guided the god's head down on his shoulder and pressed his lips to the spot behind Loki's ear.

"So you sent the Destroyer to Earth?"

"I told Thor his father was dead. That mother didn't allow him to come back. But Heimdall let The Warriors Three and Sif use the Bifrost. I knew they'd tell Thor I lied, and then naturally he would have to return just to see what was happening. But, he had to remain in exile. I needed him there, because Laufey agreed to waltz right into my trap. So yes, I sent the Destroyer to Earth. It didn't exactly work out, did it now?" His lips formed a crooked smile.

Had Loki meant to kill Thor at that time? Could Tony ask that now?

Loki shifted. His eyes found the inventor's gaze. "I didn't know if I wanted him dead. I still don't know. I just wished he would stay out of it for once." He barked out a laugh. "But the Destroyer was incapacitated. Thor's powers returned to him. One thing managed to go according to my plan, one single thing, and then Thor was there to spoil it all."

"Killing Laufey," Tony murmured.

"Yes. I lured him to Asgard. It was not all that hard to accomplish."

"And then?"

"We fought. On the Bifrost. Funny, really, how in all those years nobody had thought of using it as a weapon. Unleashing its energy and letting it flow would tear a realm apart. I made sure it would remain open.

"And then there was Thor, the same Thor, who'd spent over a thousand years pursuing one goal—to become a mighty warrior and slay every last frost giant, and he was telling me to stop that 'madness,' that I couldn't just eliminate an entire race. He'd spent three days on Earth, _three days_, came back a changed person, and pretending to be changed even more. Three days with a mortal woman. A mortal, one of the people we'd had no contact with since they'd been running around in furs, and he _listened_ to her, let her get things through his thick skull that I'd been telling him _for centuries_, only he'd never bothered to pay _any_ attention! He had a change of heart because of a woman whom he did not even truly know, and suddenly the things he'd always been trying to achieve and had always been praised for trying to achieve, were no longer what he sought! I could have done what he'd never accomplished, what even Odin had never managed, although they'd both tried, only then it was suddenly _wrong_!

"The Aesir are a culture that practically worships battle, and warriors, and war, and we _were_ at war, Laufey had declared it. It would have been the only war we'd ever won without casualties.

"Well, Thor won the fight. When he realised he couldn't stop the Bifrost, he destroyed the bridge, forsaking his connection with Jane for the sake of a race of monsters. He would never have done that, before. But again, his woman …

"There was an explosion. It felt like somebody ripped the universe apart, space, and time, and order, everything just torn apart. There was light and we were falling. Odin caught Thor. We were both holding the spear. And Odin… Odin just… I knew my plans had failed, but they could have worked, they really would have worked if… It doesn't make much sense now. I wouldn't try something like that again."

It took a while for Tony to realise Loki had stopped talking. His words were still ringing in his heart, and oh, how he'd heard all the unsaid things, how he could relate, understand the desperate desire to please, to prove something to oneself and everybody else, that sharp yet hollow pain when the world one knew crumbled right in front of their eyes.

"And then?" he rasped when he found his voice.

Loki lifted his gaze from his hands and sent Tony a long look. "I let go."

Oh.

_Oh_.

"Loki…"

Tony pulled him close; he pressed Loki's back to his chest and tightly wrapped his arms around him. The god stiffened; Tony lessened his hold.

"And I fell. And fell. It lasted an eternity. When you look at it from here, the universe seems beautiful. When you're caught in the middle of nothing… We are all so insignificant compared to it. So… small. Fragile. Completely unimportant. And there are… things. Out there. Things you can't see and go on living like you've never… Space is full of everything, yet there is absolutely _nothing_. No concept of space or time, no sound, no sensations, but at the same time… there are. It's…"

Tony felt Loki shake his head.

"I can't explain that. It would drive you mad. It would drive anyone mad."

"Couldn't you get out of there? I mean, with your magic and all?"

Loki snorted. "It is possible to travel through the in-between, but the moment you take a wrong step, the moment your feet slip… No. I couldn't. I wasn't really… in the condition to do so."

"Oh. Sorry." Tony's thumb started drawing circles on the back of Loki's hand.

"What for?"

Tony shrugged. "Stuff?"

"Thought so." Loki sighed. "You are not to be blamed. I was weak. When the Chitauri found me…" His hand clenched into a fist under Tony's palm.

"You don't have to talk about that."

"They kept my magic busy." The words sounded as if somebody had forcefully pulled them out of Loki's throat. His body was tense, muscles in his neck strained.

"Busy?"

Loki swallowed. "Yes."

His breathing was a little shallow. Tony could feel every shift of his shoulders, every tightening of his muscles, saw Loki's hands closing into fists and opening again. And then the god spoke, voice impassive and hard, so different from his usual melodic tone or that soft whisper meant for midnight sins, and his words painted a horror story on the early evening's darkness.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

Tony didn't close his eyes for a moment that night.

Or the one after that.

He passed out on the second day, fearing his imagination.

* * *

A/N: There's not much left of the story to write, so you might want to give a thought or two to those extras, hm? Please review, and stay awesome!


	21. Chapter 21: February 22

A/N: So sorry for the wait (this chapter refused to be written). I suppose I shozuld have mentioned this at the end of the last chapter, but, oh well... I'm leaving Loki's tortures to your imagination. I think you're more than capable of coming up with disgusting things.

I kept listening to Blackmore's Night—Journeyman and Blackmore's Night—Home Again through most of the chapter, but they don't really fit, or anything... Have a listen anyway, you might like them.

Thank you for reviewing, and hellomynameislucifer for editing.

* * *

**February 22****nd**

_Now I understand  
What you tried to say to me  
And how you suffered for your sanity  
And how you tried to set them free  
They would not listen  
They did not know how  
Perhaps they'll listen now_

_~Don McClean: Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)_

Tony couldn't hear the footsteps anymore. All the subtle sounds in the background, from a _cling_ where metal hit metal, to the rustling of paper, had slipped out of existence and the soft humming of the computers was all that remained. He wasn't worried. He had no reason to be.

Yet, at some point, he felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. His hands stopped mid-motion. Slowly, he took a breath—

A pale arm stretched past him to point at the screen.

"You made a mistake."

"Huh?" Tony let the breath out. Damn Loki for sneaking up on him. "No, I didn't."

"Here." Loki's index finger touched the hologram.

Tony's brow furrowed. _Was_ his calculation incorrect? He'd been at it for a while, trying to build reflection panels into the suit without needing to change any other parts of his armour, because if SHIELD could perform the vanishing act, so could he. If he'd been trying to work with the wrong data, it would at least explain why he hadn't succeeded yet.

"Jarvis, take a look at this again." Tony waved a hand towards that particular calculation, then turned to Loki, whose body was mere inches away. "How long have you been standing here?"

Loki shrugged. "A few minutes. You've been researching the sceptre."

It wasn't a question, but Tony nodded anyway. "Yeah. Before that psycho used it to create another portal."

"And now?"

"Nope. Fury didn't call me in again. He's probably afraid you'd get to it somehow. Through me, or something."

"It wouldn't be of much use now." Loki pushed the things that littered the work desk aside and sat on it as if it was his birth-given right to do just that. "Without its connection to Thanos. Have you got any more of those…"—he waved his hand through the air—"Japanese riddles?"

"Sudoku?"

"Yes. Anything more complicated? The ones you gave me did not present any challenge."

Tony blinked. He'd given the god the hardest, most devious, Sudoku he could find. His eyes flicked to the screen and back to Loki.

"You're way too smart. Seriously. I suppose I could ask Jarvis to come up with something harder… You sure won't be able to buy it anywhere." And that mistake… "How much do you actually know about my suits?"

Loki arched his eyebrows and cocked his head; his ponytail hit the back his leather-covered shoulder (so what if he wore leather jackets inside the house? They looked way too god on him for Tony to complain). "What Barton told me, or what I've seen in fights, plus everything that's been on these screens in the last fifteen minutes. Why?"

Tony groaned. He'd known Loki was clever, of course he had. Just not _that_ clever. "We're so not telling the press you're a genius. I would lose the spotlight. I suppose I could give you books on different subjects, and we'd have a revolution of science in a week?"

The corner of Loki's mouth curled upwards.

"Uh-huh. Okay. And you've been learning magic how long exactly?"

"Most of my life." Loki's fingers began picking at the corner of a paper lying nearby.

"So, approximately a millennium?" Awesome. How hard was that shit if it took Loki so much time to master? Or better yet, how many different spells were there, and how many variations?

Loki nodded. He looked tired. He was, too, and he wasn't the only one. They'd spent the last couple of nights together, forsaking sleeping pills as much as possible; Tony really didn't need another addiction, coffee was bad enough for him (and alcohol, let's not forget alcohol). He'd argued when Loki refused them as well, yet he'd been immensely thankful for it when his mind had decided to torment him and he'd been forced to suffer from a terribly vivid nightmare he couldn't remember after Loki had shaken him awake.

And so they'd filled the nights with quiet conversations about everything and nothing, sometimes reading aloud, other times watching movies, or simply lying in the dark and cuddling the cats. At some point last night, Tony had started massaging Loki's palms. The way the Trickster practically purred was a very compelling argument for Tony to repeat the exercise sometime soon.

However, the lack of sleep had taken its toll, there was no denying it. Loki's paleness was more pronounced, shadows never really left the skin under his eyes. Tony's appearance had to be influenced similarly.

"Sir, Miss Foster left a message. They should be here in about ten minutes."

And no, Tony did not imagine it, Loki tensed just a bit at that. Tony's hand brushed his knee.

"I'll change into something more… presentable," he said.

Loki nodded. _He_ did not need changing, dressed in tight black jeans, a green v-neck, and a jacket as he was.

"See you upstairs, then."

Another nod, but Tony didn't push it. He made his way to his bedroom; damn, having all those elevators in Stark Tower had made him lazy. He could call Happy to arrange a round of boxing. Or he could try to convince Loki to spar with him. If the god agreed to go easy on him. Tony liked his bones whole, thank you very much. Not that Loki would actually hurt him in such a way. But perhaps it would be boring for him to hold back.

Tony abandoned his working clothes (he'd actually thought he'd get to the physical part of work, heh) in favour of dark jeans and a shirt. The arc reactor cast its light over the room for a moment before he covered it. Running a hand through his hair, he headed to the enormous living room. Loki was nowhere to be seen.

Jarvis announced his guests a few minutes later. Tony, being the polite person he was, walked to the door just as Jarvis opened it, revealing three persons standing outside: Thor, still appearing odd in normal clothing and holding one of those plastic boxes people used for carrying food around, a petite brown-haired woman who Tony recognised as Jane Foster, and another brunette with glasses. His gaze remained on her for a moment before sliding back to Thor.

"Hey, big guy."

"Friend Tony! Great seeing you again!"

"Oh my god, you called me Tony! We've got to celebrate this! Wait a second, you didn't say that because you need something from me, did you?"

Thor's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Why would I do that?"

"No reason." Except that Loki called him by his name when he needed Tony, or when the mood was really emotional, or… Well, whenever he wanted any kind of psychological distance between them gone. "Come in, yeah?"

"Thank you. Ladies, this is Anthony Stark, the Man of Iron. Friend Tony, this is Jane Foster."

"Nice to meet you," Jane said. They shook hands.

"Yeah, hi. The whole idea of making holes in space is great, just don't stick your nose through them. It's hard to breathe on the other side."

She blinked at him. "Um… I'll remember that?"

"And this is Darcy Lewis, a friend of Jane's," Thor went on. "I apologize for not informing you about her wish to join us here."

Darcy offered a cheeky wave. "Sorry 'bout that. I wanted to meet the crazy demigod."

Tony gritted his teeth. His eyes flashed cold, but he offered the girl his hand, hiding his emotions behind a casual smirk.

"A piece of advice for you, too. Don't call people crazy. You might regret it."

Thor either didn't notice the sliver of tension in the air or chose to ignore it. "Where is my brother?"

Tony opened his mouth. He was too slow.

"I'm not your brother." Loki moved from where he was leaning on the wall further down the hall and stalked towards them, scrutinizing Jane with narrowed eyes. She shifted under his gaze, wiped her palms on her jeans, offered a sheepish smile. "Hi?"

Loki inclined his head. "You should be proud." His voice was much too sweet.

"Brother…"

"After all"—Loki's grin stretched during that momentary pause—"you saved so many lives."

"W-what?"

"I was merely remarking what an incredible human being you must be."

Jane's face fell, eyebrows drawn together. "I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?"

"No." Loki's voice sounded completely serious, and Tony saw that little something in his eyes he'd learnt to associate with honesty. Not that he'd be able to see through the god's lies, or that it was always there when the latter spoke the truth. It was just a little flicker of something originating from somewhere deep within, the kind of determined honesty with almost too much weight behind it, just this side of noticeable, but Tony saw even as he knew he was the only one.

"_You_ did not do anything wrong. I apologize."

Bonus points for trying. And he totally earned a long kiss just by making Thor look like he'd seen houses grow wings and fly into the sunset.

"All right. You guys make yourselves comfortable." Tony waved down the hall towards the living room. "The others should be here soon."

They were, too. Steve and Bruce, and then Pepper (she didn't bring Coulson with her, which was probably a good idea), and lastly Natasha and Clint ("What the hell is _he_ doing here," the archer snapped, sending a glare in Loki's direction). Thor gladly took care of the introductions. Loki disappeared into the kitchen. Tony plopped down onto a free spot on a couch.

"So. Good to see you, guys. You look great."

"And you look terrible," Steve replied.

"Now I'm insulted. I've always been told I was handsome."

"Tony." Pepper rolled her eyes. "Have you been sleeping at all lately?"

"Oh, you know how that is. Didn't want to develop another addiction. But, enough about that. I heard you had a visitor?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Bruce. "Betty Ross, wasn't it? Pepper tells me she approves. That is always a good first step towards starting a relationship."

"Whatever you mean by that," Clint murmured. Bruce, slightly red in the face, opened his mouth, but he didn't get a chance to speak because Natasha (Natasha of all people!) noticed Lumi, and a loud, girlish "Hey, kitty!" escaped her. The murderous glare she sent everybody just after didn't help much.

Lumi, all eyes on her, proudly strode past them all, heading straight towards the kitchen. Once again, Tony found himself wondering if his cats were enchanted. Lumi meowed when Natasha picked her up, and attempted to wriggle her way free, hitting the agent's chest with her back paws.

Tony spread his arms in surrender. "I have no idea who raised them."

"I might have a suggestion or two."

"Oh lord, Pepper Potts acquired an appreciation for my jokes! That's the second reason to celebrate today, we'll be drunk in an hour of we continue in this rate. Sounds like a good idea, no?"

"I'm in."

Everyone turned to stare at Darcy, who shrugged nonchalantly. "What? Just saying."

"That's just Darcy," Jane said, taking the plastic box from Thor. "I brought pastries. Where can I put them?"

Tony half-pointed at the coffee table. "Leave them here. I've got all kinds of unhealthy stuff to go with it."

Which wasn't completely true; the pizza had lots and lots of vegetables on it, and there were sliced carrots and peppers and apples, but the dips were full of cream and mayo, and caramel for the apples, and there were peanuts, chips, chocolate chips cookies, and blueberry pie, so his statement was not really a lie.

"Why don't we bring the food here? We could watch a movie, or something."

He was aware Loki's presence in the house was making everybody a little tense; the circumstances were far from ideal for a carefree chat. But if he gave the people something to do…

The next couple of minutes were a cacophony of sound.

"How about Men in Black?"

"Eww, no way, those movies are one big lie, government agencies are nothing like that."

"Thor might like Legally Blond."

"What the hell, Tony?"

"Because he's blond."

"Right, this makes so much sense. I want Star Wars."

"I've seen them like twenty times already."

"And I've had enough of the universe, thank you very much."

"How about Shrek?"

"Watched it a couple of days ago. Hey, Pikachu, you have dragons in Fairyland?"

"Yes…"

"How to Train Your Dragon. Come on, guys, it has dragons, Viking, yelling, lots of smashing without thinking—it's perfect!"

"Yeah, no. Batman."

"What's a batman?"

"Jesus, Steve, how long have you been around now?"

"Shakespeare in love," Pepper finally said, and Tony shut up because he knew exactly what had made her suggest it. Loki loved Shakespeare's work. Therefore, Loki would probably like the movie. Loki liking the movie meant Loki would be happy. Ergo, Tony would be happy.

Shit, his ability to draw conclusions had just regressed to the level of a five year old.

"Yes," Jane agreed, Steve added, "I know Shakespeare," to which everyone rolled their eyes, and Clint groaned, "Please no," but Tony was all for it, and Darcy seemed satisfied, even Natasha did, although she was really good at hiding it, so Tony had Jarvis take care of the movie while Pepper and Bruce helped him carry all the food into the living room.

"We're gonna watch a movie," he quietly told Loki, who was sitting at the kitchen table, playing some ridiculously hard Professor Layton game that involved trains and bridges and whatnot on Tony's tablet (what, he was Tony Stark, he could modify Nintendo games however he wanted). "About Shakespeare. Wanna join?"

"They don't want me there."

"But I do." He glanced at the empty doorframe separating the kitchen from the living room, making sure no one was watching. His lips brushed the shell of Loki's ear. "I want you to have fun, Snowflake. I think you might like the movie."

When he straightened, Loki followed, getting up with a subtle sigh. They walked into the already-dark living room. Tony reclaimed his previous place, and Loki, rather than making everyone uncomfortable by being too close to somebody, settled down on the floor, not far from the couch Tony was sitting on. Albeit short, the silence that followed didn't feel comfortable at all.

"The pie is delicious," Jane commented. "Where did you get it?"

"Um, no idea. Jarvis takes care of the stuff. Sorry." Because Tony would probably end up killed in at least three different, very imaginative ways if he told everyone Loki had made it. Jane was right, though; it was damn good.

The movie began, interrupted only by an occasional murmur, the sound of fabric rubbing against leather whenever somebody reached for a snack, or the rustling of chips and breaking of vegetables and apples. Ever so slowly, Loki inched closer to the couch until he was leaning against it, and Tony's hand subtly found its way to his shoulder, just resting there. For once, he was glad to sit on the side. Lumi claimed the god's lap, and Loki inclined his head just enough that it rested on Tony's forearm.

Content.

The inventor felt content. Happy. A moment of almost-normality in this crazy mess. Sure, in an ideal world, Loki would be sitting right by his side, snuggled against him, and they would kiss until everyone made vomiting noises behind their backs, and at night it would be the hottest sex he'd ever had that would keep them awake. But, that was an empty fantasy; Loki's cheek against his skin was real.

The god shifted, reaching out for apples. After a while, he took a piece of some other food. Tony didn't pay attention anymore. He was happily munching a slice of pizza, the god was eating, Viola and Shakespeare were teasing each other in the boat, everything was fine.

Or not.

He caught movement with the corner of his eye. Where Loki had been not even a moment ago, was now only an agitated cat.

The pizza suddenly lost its taste. Loki had teleported away. _Teleported_.

Lumi sniffed something lying on the floor, and Tony bent over the armrest to pick it up. One of Jane's pastries, one half of it missing. Tony furrowed his brow. What the—

Wait. He brought it to his face and sniffed.

Shit. _Shit, shit, shit_.

"You filled this with meat?"

Heads turned.

"Yes." Confusion was clear in Jane's voice. "Is something the matter?"

"Not at all." Tony flashed her his made-for-press smile although he didn't know if she could actually see it. "Excuse me, there's something… Never mind, we have a movie to enjoy."

Or, they had. Tony pushed himself to his feet. It was all he could do to refrain from running and yelling as he slipped into the hall and silently closed the door.

"Jarvis, where—"

"Upstairs, sir. In the bathroom."

He knew, he just knew it was bad, otherwise Loki wouldn't have gone there; he'd be on the balcony, or lying upside down on some couch, or sitting on the edge of his bed, or twisting the sheets in his fists if it became too much. Still, a dagger of pain shot through his chest when he saw the god on his knees, vomiting, hands clawing at the tiles. If not for the ponytail, his hair would have been a mess.

Tony couldn't care less for the pain that flared up in his kneecaps when they hit the floor. He wrapped his hands around Loki's trembling shoulders.

"Breathe, babe, breathe!"

Loki sucked in a shaky breath and proceeded to choke on dry heaves and sobs. Tears were spilling down his cheekbones.

"Hey. Hey. It's all right. Nobody's going to force you into anything."

Loki wiped his mouth with the back of his shaky hand. Tony could see in his eyes how he struggled to pull himself together; it wasn't working. He was still crying, still shaking, still… Before Tony could do anything, he pushed two fingers down his throat and proceeded to gag and spit.

"Snowflake…" Tony pulled the god to his chest, hurting, powerless to really help. He didn't even know what to say.

"Water." Loki gagged. "Water, please."

Tony twitched. "Yeah. Yeah, sure. Hang on."

He was so, so happy right now he kept glasses in the bathroom, and if he almost tripped over his own feet in hurry, nobody was there to call him on it. Grabbing the glass, he opened the tap as far as it would go. Water spilled over his hands.

"Here."

He wrapped one arm around Loki to steady him and used the other one to bring the glass to the god's lips. One of the latter's pale hands closed around it as well, and he tipped the glass. Water spilled into his mouth and over his chin, dripping onto the tiles, but Tony couldn't care less.

The glass was empty in a couple of moments. This wasn't going to work.

"Hold on," Tony hissed, wrapping both hands around Loki's middle, trying to pull him to his feet. "Let's get you to the sink."

Loki groaned but struggled to cooperate. The glass, having slipped out of his hand, shattered on the floor, amid the whole mixture of vomit, water, and—was that blood?

Sure enough, when Loki rinsed his mouth, the water came out just a little pink. Damn it, pushing fingers down his throat hadn't been the best idea.

But Tony didn't say that. This was no time for contemplation; you got an idea, you did whatever you came up with.

"Okay. Okay. Breathe, babe. Just, um, not with water in your mouth."

The absence of a poisonous green glare was concerning. Then again, it was a bit hard to glare daggers with tears streaming from one's eyes. Loki's hand closed around the tap, knuckles turning white. A cacophony of spitting, gasping, and sobbing ensued; the steady murmur of water served as background noise.

Tony whispered soothing nonsense. His hand was rubbing Loki's back, travelling up and down between his shoulder blades.

If he'd ever seen the perfect depiction of despair, this was it, this very scene with all the past behind it.

Slowly, Loki sank to his knees. His hand slipped off the tap and remained loosely curled around the edge of the sink. He pressed his forehead to the cupboard underneath it. The water was still running.

"Hey…" Tony squatted down. His hands slid to Loki's cheeks and gently tilted his face, and Tony found himself looking in puffy, red-rimmed eyes, which were still watering. "Any better now?"

Loki shrugged. Kneeling like that, he seemed so small, vulnerable, breakable.

_Broken_.

"Come. Let's get somewhere more comfortable, okay?"

A nod. But the god took Tony's hand when he offered it. The inventor closed the tap, wrapped his arm around Loki's back, and led them around the mess on the floor. He really, really regretted not having Dummy or You or Butterfingers here, because he sure as hell did not want to clean the bathroom.

"Jarvis, add 'get a robot janitor' on the to-do list, would you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy."

Loki didn't comment, allowing Tony to lead him to the smaller living room they had up here and then towards the cream-coloured, L-shaped couch. Tony settled in the corner and pulled Loki down, so that he was sitting between Tony's knees, his head resting on the inventor's chest. Black strands spilled over fabric when Tony ran his fingers through them, effectively destroying the ponytail.

"Sorry," Loki murmured.

Tony's eyebrows rose for a moment. His fingertips gently stroked Loki's scalp, calming the god. "It's okay."

"You know…" Loki shifted a little, more lying than sitting now. "Sometimes, I feel like… That if I had a chance to kill Thanos, it would stop hurting. That's such a pretty lie, isn't it?"

"I killed most of my captors," Tony said quietly. Loki's weight on him felt good, as if it belonged there, as if it had always been meant to be there. "It's a thrill, true, but it didn't really change much."

A second of silence.

"Wait, are you mad that I killed him?"

Loki huffed. It wasn't very effective with tears still slowly streaming down his cheeks. "Don't be an idiot. I will be forever grateful for that."

Oh. Okay. That felt kind of big. Not that it was supposed to, compared to the fact he loved a fucking Norse god, and shit, the press would have to find out at some point, right, he'd never have a private life again—unless he let Loki do the shower-curtain thing to them, it would serve them right. Or, they'd be overexcited and cause their entire computer system to crash. There, case closed.

He wiped a tear from the corner of Loki's eye, the other hand still buried in his hair. Bringing his face closer to the crown of Loki's head, he inhaled; the weak scent of lavender filled his nose. He liked that shampoo. Especially on Loki. Hell, he'd like to use it on Loki, on his whole body, while hot water streamed over them and they—

Um, no.

Loki's eyelids slid closed. Thin lips parted.

"Do you believe in destiny?"

"Yeah, no. I've never been a fan of all that hocus-pocus. I prefer to choose my own path, thank you very much. Why are you asking? I didn't think you'd be interested in that."

"They say," Loki spoke slowly, "the Norns rule destiny. The Norns say destiny can be changed. I asked them, once." A barely-there smile danced on his lips. "If it can be changed… It is not destiny at all, is it? Still… Think of all the paths one can choose, all the paths we could have chosen. Of all the places we could be now, we ended up here. Here. On Earth. Together. The probability of that…"

"Yeah." That was about all Tony could get past his lips right now. Loki was _right_. If Tony put himself into the position of a child again… How many paths he could have chosen, how many factors led him down this one special way? His never-ending desire to both please and beat his father, all the people that had ever left just a vague impression that changed him a tiny little bit, all the shit (aka caves in Afghanistan, Russian bird-lovers, and mini Godzillas), everything. Hell, he could have walked past Loki on that Christmas night. And Loki, whose life had been so much longer…

"Yeah," he repeated. "But I'm glad we did. End up here." He sounded cheesy, but so what? If Loki had the right to go all Hollywood on him, then Tony had the right sound like he'd been plucked out of Twilight. Or something similar. Like Shakespeare in Love.

Loki's fingers dug in Tony's shirt in response, and he snuggled closer. They were breathing almost simultaneously until the rhythm of Loki's breaths began to slow.

"Can you sing?" he murmured into Tony's breastbone.

"So-so. I can talk, though."

"Then talk."

"Can _you_ sing?"

"Yes. Now—"

"You can sing? Really? I've got to hear that. Like, seriously sing or just averagely sing?"

"I said I can sing. Stop asking—"

"Will you sing something for me?"

"Tony, _please_."

He couldn't recall a time when he'd shut his mouth quite so fast. Okay, not true. There was that time in Washington DC and—no. Irrelevant. Loki's eyes were wide and still glistening, and dark shadows lurked deep, deep within them.

"Sorry." He draped one arm across Loki's middle; the other one was still busy with his hair.

"I can sing for you sometime," Loki murmured. "If you want."

"Sure. Sometime. What do you want me to talk about? Or, Jarvis could read a book. How about that?"

"Might as well."

Might as well. Typical. "All right. Jarv, read something. Something historical or something, okay?"

"Any preferences, sir?"

"Snowflake?"

"There are no more Shakespeare's works, are there?"

Tony shook his head. "But I'm sure there's a bunch of literature that was inspired by him. Jarvis?"

"If you would wait a moment, sir."

Tony sighed and leaned his head back against the backrest. Whoever had invented pillows was a genius. Whoever had bought so many pillows was, too. Right, Tony had bought them. Oh, well. His back sure wasn't complaining.

That familiar voice with a slightly British accent filled the room, tone a little softer than usual, as if Jarvis understood why he'd been asked to read in the first place.

"_They called me 'honest Iago' from an early age, but in Venice, this is not a compliment. It is rebuke. One does not prosper by honesty. One does not rise in social ranks. One does not curry favors. Honesty causes upset, and Venice is serene. The Serene Republic. It says so right on the seal of state, which I could read when I was two, or so claimed the governess who struggled to keep up with my precociousness…"*_

Tony felt Loki shift ever so slightly, and moved a bit himself. The god's body was warm against his, his exhales creating a calming accompaniment to Jarvis's reading.

Tony kept running his fingers through Loki's silky hair.

Again and again and again.

Again.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

"Tony, did you start working and space out a—"

Wa—wait, what? Steve? Huh?

His eyes snapped open. Uh-huh. So this was how Loki must have felt when he'd pulled himself out of that Hulk-made crater. Steve, Natasha, and Clint were staring at him in a very confused, very judgemental way while Bruce's gaze contained all that in much smaller amounts right along a spark of something that looked suspiciously like confirmation.

"What the fuck?" Clint, naturally. His eyes held the strongest turmoil, flashes of something aggressive and something painful and sad.

Loki stirred. Tony had a chance to observe the truth on his face—the puffy, red-rimmed eyes, the weariness— for a nanosecond before _something_ slid over it (glamour? Was it called glamour?) and all the traces of tears, tiredness, any potential weakness were gone; his expression was smooth and masterfully blank as he pushed himself into a sitting position and then to his feet. Tony followed his example.

"Actually, I dozed off, not spaced out," he said, ever the one to talk back. "Don't tell me the movie's already over? Damn, I like that scene where the queen sends money to ol' Will."

"You owe us an explanation," Clint growled, eyes flitting from Tony to Loki and back again.

"We owe you nothing," Loki snarled back.

"Like hell! You enslaved me! You do owe me!"

Loki's eyes sparked dangerously. "Oh, I'm sorry. If I'd known you'd be bothered so much, I would have killed you instead and chosen somebody else to help me."

Clint's hand slipped into his pocked, pulling out a—

"The fuck, you brought a gun into my house?" Tony stepped forward.

"I knew"—Clint aimed the gun at Loki—"he was gonna be here."

"Still. You brought a _gun_. That's just… Jeez, put it down."

Clint didn't move a muscle. "He used me as his flying monkey! Took my brain apart and stuffed it back in like I was a toy to play with, and made me fight against people I care for!"

"I'm not saying he didn't—"

"Stark."

"—in fact, I'm not saying much of anything—"

"Stark."

"—just that you should put that gun down and—"

"_Stark._"

Trying to keep an eye on Clint, he finally squinted at Loki—and turned to him completely. Jaw clenched tight, knuckles turned white, breathing evenly an effort—shit.

"Did you get…?"

"Yeah. I put it on the nightstand."

Loki gave a curt nod. Their gazes met for a moment, saying so much; they apologized, Loki because he knew Tony wished for support here, Tony because anxiety attacks were a bitch and Loki needed him, but he couldn't just leave; and they forgave because there was nothing else they could do, no fault to be found. They could not stand by each other's side. Not now.

And then the moment was gone and Loki strode out of the room even as Clint shouted,

"Hey! Don't you walk away, you bastard! Hey!"

Tony felt anger stir inside of him. The kind of anger that made him want to rush forward and smash the agent's face. The kind of anger only the protectiveness he felt towards Loki could invoke. The kind of white hot sensation that left him breathless for a moment.

"He saved your life!"

"What?"

The enjoyment he'd so often got out of being the centre of the attention? Yeah, he didn't experience that right now. The moment of intensity had passed. Now, there was only pulsating silence.

"He saved your life," he repeated. "When the bilgesnipe decided it would be fun to stumble upon a crack in space-time and go on a sight-seeing tour to Manhattan, and you got knocked out? Yeah, I was a little busy. He stepped in."

Clint's brows furrowed. In confusion, was it?

"Wait, that was sometime last year. In spring. He's been around for a year?"

"A bit more." Tony dug his hands into his pockets. As if that would make the situation easier to deal with, it wasn't like he had magical pockets that would help him relax. Huh, there was a thought. Relaxing pocket. They would sell like hot cakes. "That was the second time I saw him. Well, the third, technically."

"And you didn't think you should tell us?" Natasha asked, perfectly collected.

Tony shrugged. "I thought about it. But he couldn't use magic. He…"

No. He couldn't talk about that, spill all the secrets. Even if he wanted to, he didn't have words that would enable him to describe what was the most important—those tiny little details, the barest hint of sadness in Loki's eyes or the shift of his shoulders, the subtle intensity of the atmosphere. The others would not understand. He couldn't paint a living, breathing picture for them.

"Look, there were things. Like the bilgesnipe problem. And then there were… other things. Worse things." He pulled one hand out of the pocket and ran it through his hair, sighing.

Clint lowered the gun. "All right… But why the hell would Loki do that?"

"To get his magic back," Natasha remarked.

Clint snorted. "It obviously didn't work. It would have been too easy if it did."

"Wouldn't he have known that?" Steve asked. "He's supposed to be smart."

"He is." Tony couldn't help it, the comment just slipped off his tongue.

"I don't care if he's Stephan Hawking."

"I suppose you also don't care that I'm sorry." Loki's voice.

Tony turned around abruptly. Loki was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, putting on his tough act. Or, fighting to keep it in place.

Clint's eyes narrowed as they bore into the god. Natasha's did, too. And Steve's.

"I don't believe you."

Loki's lips stretched into a mirthless grin. "Oh, I know."

"Good."

Tony noticed the gun was still in Clint's hand. Not that he thought it could do Loki much damage. He was just a little afraid of what could happen if Loki was provoked. None of the options appealed to Tony, so he opened his mouth to try to play the mediator when the sound of footsteps reached his ears and he stopped, freezing for half a second. Loki tore himself from the doorframe and walked closer to him; he'd heard, too, probably even earlier.

Something was said right outside the door barely a second before Thor, Jane, Darcy, and Pepper spilled into the room. Tony's gaze followed Pepper's eyes as they swept the room, momentarily stopping on Clint, then Loki, then, at last, on Tony, revealing her familiar knowing look.

"What is going on here? Friend Tony?"

Pepper wasn't the only one staring in every direction.

Tony opened his mouth on impulse—something would surely come out, he could think about it later and everything would be fine, but not this time, not this time—

"Tony's screwing your brother," Clint supplied.

Thor blinked, stupefied. His eyebrows rose, then fell even lower. Understanding filled his eyes. Light and darkness battled for dominion in them, and Tony hoped the Thunderer was aware mortal skulls were not compatible with Mjolnir. As much as Tony liked to stand out, a hole in his head would be a step too far.

But Thor, the internal battle continuing, turned to Loki, not Tony, Loki, whose face was closed off and covered by a gossamer veil of something sinister.

"Brother. I am glad to hear you have found somebody."

Tony let out a small breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding. Yet, whatever was clenched in his stomach remained clenched, Loki's eyes remained carefully guarded and Thor's still foreboding.

"Skip the pleasantries," Loki said sharply. "We both know you are just dying to lecture me."

A shadow of hurt passed through Thor's sky-blue eyes. "Why can you not understand? I only wish you would not throw your honour away."

Loki snorted, lips stretching into a grin that was just this side of mad. "How touching, that you should worry. Fret not, I have no honour left to lose."

Honour? Why did all that sound way too much like a concerned father telling his daughter she could not have sex before she was married? Aesir didn't think much of that shit, did they? Wait… Wait, wait, wait. He knew this. Or, something about this, but he knew, he'd heard something, read something, something Viking-related, he just needed to remember…

Thor stepped forward, hand aiming for the back of Loki's neck, but the Trickster slipped away before Thor came even close to touching him.

"Loki," he growled. "Listen to yourself. You cannot seriously let yourself be taken like a common whore."

For a moment—less than a moment—such raw pain filled those forest green eyes it knocked the air out of Tony's lungs.

Then, nothing.

A flash of silver.

A soft thud.

A startled gasp and a line of crimson.

Nothing.

Loki was gone. Thor was left standing with a grim expression and a fresh cut on his cheek. Tony's wall had a knife embedded into it. And Tony himself… His nails dug into his palms, leaving red crescents of pain behind. That was all. That was easy to focus on. The pain in his palms.

"Wow…" Darcy muttered. "Man, you're lucky he missed."

Thor shook his head, slowly. Was it for the dramatic effect? "Nay. My brother never misses."

Pain was good.

"He hurt you." Jane hurried to his side, placing a hand on his uninjured cheek. "What if he does it again?"

Pain was good.

Thor took hold of her wrist and guided her hand away. "He shall see the truth in my words."

Pain was—

"What the fuck is _wrong_ with you!?"

"What do you mean, wrong?"

Pain was good.

"I don't know if it's your big brother complex or the fucked up Viking morality that's resonating within your head so loudly you can't hear anything, but I believe you just called Loki a whore."

"I did not."

Jane backed away a step. Tony couldn't resent her; Thor's face was like a stormy night.

"Yeah, you did."

"Do not twist my words."

Pain was good. Pain was good, nails digging in flesh were good, because Thor's face was _not_ a place Tony's fists should have the desire to collide with, but he was sick and tired of it all, the past, the present, the lurking shadows and the fear they fed on, and Thor had no idea Loki had never _let_ himself be taken, and how could he call the man he insisted was his brother a _whore_?

"What if he didn't?" There was steel in his voice.

Thor's brow furrowed. "Didn't what?"

"Let himself be taken."

"But the Man of Hawk's Eye said…"

And of course just because Clint had blurted out something, it automatically meant it had to be true? He opened his palms and flexed his fingers to get the circulation going again. The desire to smash something coursed through his insides. What was _wrong_ with him? The aggression, the bone-deep exhaustion, the frustration, he was just… Just… tired. And when he and Loki had finally fallen asleep and actually slept after days of restless half-slumber, they had to be woken up in the worst manner possible and then deal with all this crap because the universe either had a wicked sense of humour, or it was simply sadistic. With their luck, probably the latter.

"Just for the record, Viking, I never touched your precious baby brother the wrong way."

"Oh." Thor's face brightened at once. "Then it is all okay."

Tony stared. Or maybe, he gawked, hard to say when his mind was all _what the fuck?_

"No. No, it's not. Look, I understand, different culture, sexist society, and let's not get started on how honourable your—no, never mind. You insist on calling Loki 'brother.' You. Not him. And instead of standing by his side, you insult him." And Tony deserved something awesome for the amount of self-control he was exercising right now. Something like sleep, and peace, and mind-blowing sex somewhere in the future (he hoped).

He noticed Bruce lean towards Pepper to whisper something into her ear. She whispered back.

Jane was still two or three feet away from Thor, clearly putting her brain to work, only Tony didn't know what she was thinking about.

"If Loki requires help, he needs only to ask," Thor said with so much honesty it broke Tony's heart. He shook his head.

"He's not going to. He is never going to. This is what you don't understand. You two are too different. Your mind sets are nothing alike. But, while Loki knows how you think, you have no idea how _his_ brain works."

"You… are probably right." Thor shifted his weight, his posture much more relaxed now, although his brow was still furrowed. "Why are you telling me this?"

Tony shrugged. "It's the alternative."

"To what?" Steve asked from the side.

"Shouting and breaking my knuckles on somebody's bones?" The inventor shrugged again. He needed a drink. Two. Thirty-seven. Or a good night's sleep. That would do nicely. He sighed. "I guess I want you to understand. You want to repair your relationship with Loki, you'll have to learn how he thinks. Right now? Right now, you think nothing's wrong because you were referring to a hypothetical situation."

Thor nodded once. "Am I so easy to read?"

"Honestly? Yes. Also, reading Loki is like trying to read a closed book, so I've got a bit of practice."

"Then you know what is going through his mind?"

"Kind of, yeah." But, he didn't want to know. Not like that. The images were _ugly_. Sighing, he dropped down onto the couch and buried his face in his hands. He should check on Loki. But, that would mean leaving everybody else waiting, and he'd be under pressure. Besides, Jarvis would have alerted him if something was really wrong, would he not? Damn, he should have specialised in cloning. That was where the real future lay.

"Tony?" Pepper asked softly. "Are you all right?"

He just groaned even as Thor looked at him.

"Will you tell me?"

Why did the god sound so very hopeful?

"Don't tell me you have no idea whatsoever," Tony replied and patted the couch to make the others sit down. It could hardly worsen the atmosphere.

"Loki does many things to provoke me." Thor's weight caused a shift of the couch. "He understood my words as an insult and replied accordingly. He could have demanded holmgang**, but my brother has never been known to seek out a fight. Since he did not, the matter would be considered closed."

"This is where you're wrong." He noticed the others sit down from the corner of his eye. "Loki won't say anything. Actually, I'm pretty sure he won't talk to you for a while, pretend he's doing it all just to piss you off and watch you walk around like a kicked puppy, or maybe he'll make it so that you'll only be able to speak in iambic hexameter, or something. He'll never admit your words hurt him, or why they hurt him, or that for him there was nothing hypothetical about them."

"You seem terribly convinced you know what's going on in his head." Natasha's eyes were thoughtfully narrowed.

"Yeah, no. I'm not really good at reading closed books. But, I know enough about the contents to be able to assume how the chapters are structured," he countered. "Though, it would be very convenient to be able to see through pages. Imagine, you could read porn without—yeah, no. I can't be funny right now."

"Didn't you say it was always the time to be funny?" Natasha remarked, and of course she had to bring that up now.

He flashed her a quick, completely fake smile. "I changed my mind. There is, in fact, a point when things stop being funny."

"And when would that be?"

Tony shrugged. "When you swallow more pills than food, prefer watching soap operas over sleeping at five in the morning because Jarvis has a temporary glitch and can't play a movie, and when you don't say things like 'I need my brain bleached' because it automatically makes you imagine how it would feel if it was actually done?"

That was met with a moment of silence he couldn't quite define; it was not shocked, yet it was, and it wasn't tense, either, but it certainly wasn't relaxed or comfortable.

Darcy was the first to speak. "Pills? Are you ill? You look ill."

"No, I look as if I haven't slept for days."

"Have you?" Pepper cocked her head. "I know how you get with your work, but you have to stop doing this to yourself. Tony, you need to sleep."

"Well, I was sleeping until those four"—he made a vague gesture with his hand—"decided it would be fun to gawk." He had the right to be out ill-tempered, did he not?

"In our defence, you decided it would be fun to go cuddling in the middle of the movie."

"We were not—aah." Tony waved his hand dismissively. Thor shifted a bit closer. His lips parted, then closed. He took a breath.

"I… Should I apologize to my brother?"

_You think?_

"Yeah."

"Can your Voice locate him?"

"Mr Loki said he didn't want to see you, Mr Odinson," 'the Voice' answered instead of its creator. "He said, I quote, that you should stay away, or he would pull out your entrails, tear off your fingers, feed them to you one by one, and make you watch how they get digested. Or, if you do not enjoy eating your fingers raw, he could roast them on you first."

Tony's guts clenched. He swallowed. And did it again. Finding his voice was hard. "Can you tell him his threats are much more tasteful when they derive from him imagination?"

"He is outside, sir. But he requested I tell you there is nothing to worry about."

Tony sighed. It felt like he was caught in a sticky web of emotional pain he had no idea how to get out of. Give it time. Right. That was so easy to say. Even hope for something better couldn't make the hurt disappear like the flame of a candle somebody blew out.

"Look, here's the deal." His gaze travelled over the group of people. Well, persons. "Loki and I are together. We've been together for a while, we're staying together."

"There is more to it, is there not?" Jane said quietly, looking straight at him with clever brown eyes.

Tony nodded. "A lot more. Things I don't want to talk about, things I can't find the words to talk about, things I'll never ever repeat." He took a deep breath; oxygen filled his lungs, expanding them until he felt his rib cage stretch to the limit.

Exhale.

"I know you have problems with Loki"—his gaze lingered on Clint, Steve, and Natasha, and for just a moment on Jane and Darcy as well—"I know he did bad things, whatever the intention behind them. You don't have to like him, you don't have to forgive him, nobody can force you to do that. But I want you to accept things as they are and act like respectful adults."

"You have forgiven him," Steve said. It was a statement, nothing that needed confirming, but Tony nodded anyway.

"I'm sorry tonight has turned into a disaster. If you want to stay for a while, that's fine, the house is big. If you wanna go, it's okay, too."

Nobody moved. Bruce was the first who shifted, turning to look at Tony as if he were waiting for the billionaire to say something more.

"All right then." Clint pushed to his feet. "I have to digest this. Sorry, man, but it's fucked up."

Tony understood. He really did. But his life had become such a mess he hardly even noticed how messy it was sometimes.

"Oh, by the way. You tell SHIELD, that's fine. They try to bother us—I'll kick them into next January. You—and by you I mean everyone—tell the press…"

"We get it," Natasha spoke and rose. She placed a hand on Clint's biceps. "Thank you for the hospitality, Stark."

The couple walked towards the door, almost there, almost outside—

"Hey, Clint!"

"Yeah?" The arched looked over his shoulder.

"I know you can't believe that, but I'm pretty sure Loki spoke the truth when he apologized."

They spent the next couple of second eyeing each other; Clint's gaze was searching Tony's face for something.

"Okay," the archer finally said. "Bye."

"Wait." This time it was Steve who spoke up. "I'm coming with you." He turned towards Tony. "To make sure things… To make sure."

The billionaire nodded, somewhat thankful. The three Avengers left, and Tony sank deeper into the couch. His fingers found the edge of a nearby pillow. Somebody should say something. Comment on something. Ask something. Whatever.

"We should leave, too," Jane broke the silence.

Darcy's head turned immediately. "But I saw a—"

"Forget the sauna."

Darcy pouted. Jane bit her lower lip.

"Are there any hotels around here you can recommend?"

"Oh, don't ask Tony that," Pepper chimed in. "Jarvis will find you something."

Hotels. They didn't know the hotels…

"You were planning on sleeping here," Tony deadpanned.

"I thought you were still in your tower," Thor said.

"Ah. Okay. Whatever."

Of course he could offer them to stay in the tower. But, he didn't really want them there. It was _his_ tower, not a shelter. And, he was still a little mad at Thor. Tony Stark was volatile, self-obsessed, and didn't play well with others, SHIELD said. Sometimes, it came in handy.

Judging by the look Pepper sent him, she didn't approve. But, she didn't try to argue.

"I'll help you find a hotel," she addressed Thor and cocked her head in the direction of the door. "Come."

The way Thor obediently followed probably shouldn't remind Tony of a golden retriever so much. But it did, just as Loki reminded him of a sleek black cat, graceful, dangerous, and always ready to purr if one only knew how to approach him right.

The way Darcy and Jane followed, too, didn't remind him on anything.

He dragged a hand down his face. The emptier the room got, the easier it felt to breathe. His body slumped against the backrest as his muscles refused to work full-time. Tired. Tired, tired, tired. Oh, and had he mentioned tired?

Fatigue tugged at his eyelids…

"Are you planning to ever reveal the whole story?"

Tony's head snapped up. Was that the first time Bruce had spoken since they'd all gathered in here?

"No."

"Uh-huh."

"I've got nothing against you, Ogre. Loki doesn't want things told, so I'm not telling them. Actually… there are things I wouldn't tell either way."

"And that Shakespeare thing Pepper keeps mentioning?" Bruce's mouth curled up just a little.

"Oh. That. I started reading Shakespeare because of Loki. It's not bad. The literature, I mean."

"Uh-huh. Say…"—Bruce's expression grew serious—"have you considered getting help?"

"Help?" Tony's fingers twisted the pillow. "For?"

"Whatever it is that Loki is going through."

"I am helping him!" he snapped. Didn't they see? Yeah, he couldn't make everything right, but he was trying so hard and—

"Relax. I know you are, I don't doubt that. I only wanted to… I meant professional help. Have you thought of that?"

Tony sighed, feeling so very defeated. Yes, he'd thought of it. Yes, he'd considered. But, admitting it was like admitting this was more than he could handle, which was…

Probably the truth.

"I got him fluoxetine," he muttered.

"That's not the same thing, and I don't even want to know how you got it. Tony, I'm trying to help here."

The inventor looked up, meeting the other's gaze. "I know. It's just… I thought I could fix things. And I can't. It's going to take so fucking _long._"

"So, you have considered it."

"Yes. I have. I haven't mentioned it to Loki, though. No idea what he'd say, but I'm pretty sure he won't like the idea. You can't get through therapy without talking. Besides, how is that even supposed to work? It's not like Loki can simply walk into the office and talk about things that shouldn't be possible. I don't trust Fury enough to ask for one of SHIELD's shrinks. They can be bound to silence all they like, Fury would want the data. So Loki would either have to lie, which he would totally be able to, except that's not the purpose, or he could leave parts out, and we're stuck with not talking again. What do you suggest?"

"Huh." Bruce pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "When you put it like that… Maybe I could ask around a little. Find somebody trustworthy who's had enough to do with the supernatural."

"Thanks. That would… Thank you. I'll have to discuss it with Loki first, but I'll let you know." Tony placed the pillow he'd been playing with over his knees. "You're right, you know," he added quietly.

"About what?"

"This is too much. Obviously, I don't have a choice, and even if I did, I'd still choose Loki and all his emotional baggage, but sometimes I wish we were normal people in a normal relationship. The kind where you worry about being late for work if you want a second round of morning sex, or fight over which flavour of ice cream to buy, or who's doing the laundry. I just wish we—Loki could be happy."

Bruce held his gaze, and Tony had a feeling the doctor kept looking at him even after he had already averted his gaze.

"When we worked together on the helliocarrier," Bruce finally said, "it became clear you were not the stuck up jerk everybody thought you were. I don't know Loki, but I know you do. So, I'll help."

"Basically, you're offering to help because of me, not because of Loki."

"I'm offering help because it's the right thing to do." Oh, right, the doctor mode. "But I'm willing to go to greater lengths because of you. I'm sorry, I—"

"I get it. Don't worry."

There was still something awfully akin to guilt in the doctor's eyes. His morals were seriously… too developed.

"Pepper has a good opinion about him. Perhaps, in time, things will change."

Time. Why did it sound like 'time' was the magical recipe to make everything better?

"You'll like him." Tony's voice sounded awfully hollow to his own ears. "He's smart. Really smart. And I should go find him."

Bruce nodded. Not that it had any effect on Tony; the latter would have gone out anyway. He walked downstairs—Pepper's voice reached his ears from the living room—grabbed his coat, and tried to pull it on at the same time as getting his feet into his shoes. Okay, so maybe he wasn't _that_ good at multitasking. Stupid shoes. Having tied them up, he straightened—

And the front door opened in his face, revealing a freezing Jane. Cold had painted her cheeks red and forcefully wrapped her arms around her torso. Her eyes widened as she stopped in her tracks.

"Uh. Mr Stark. I'm sorry."

"Nothing to worry about, dear. You only almost ruined my pretty face and made thousands of ladies cry. Imagine the number of tissues needed and the resulting pollution. Ugh."

"I'm sorry," she said again.

"You were not admiring my gardens, I take it?"

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she averted her gaze. Then, she looked up again. "I know Loki doesn't like me. I wanted to know why."

"You don't like him, either."

"He destroyed half of my town and killed Thor."

Tony sighed. "I understand. Yet, Thor is very much alive. I'm reluctant to believe he came back from the dead." He cocked his head. "Did you know Thor's friends broke Aesir laws when they came to Puente Antiguo?"

Jane shook her head. "But I'm aware Thor was banished to Earth."

"Well, that's a good start. So, how did it go?"

She pulled her eyebrows together. "How did what go?"

"Discovering why Loki seems to dislike you."

"Oh, that." Her teeth grazed her lower lip. "I didn't actually speak to him. I… He seemed unwell."

Tony's eyes grew wide. "What?"

"Not really unwell. Just… I don't know."

That didn't reassure Tony at all. If Loki knew he was being observed, then of course he wouldn't show weakness, the stupid (brilliant), stubborn (brave) god. Neither would he come asking for help or merely for company while Tony was busy with their guests.

"Where is he?" the inventor asker perhaps more forcefully than he'd intended to; his heart demanded it and would not be silenced.

"Um, back there… You know what, I'll show you."

Not giving him time to even blink, Jane grabbed his forearm and pulled him out, nearly causing him to stumble. Tony caught his balance again and pulled his arm free. Jane didn't say anything as she led him towards a small group of birches in the back of the garden.

Loki was sitting with his back against one of the trunks, completely ignoring the fact that the ground was cold enough to make anybody else's ass freeze and fall off. His knees were pulled up to his chest, head hanging low. One of his hands was holding a sketchpad in an iron grip. The other was buried in his hair.

Tony clenched his fists, not in anger but as a reflex to a flash of pain behind his breastbone. Waving a hand to indicate Jane should go back inside, he strode to the trees and squatted down in front of Loki, who immediately raised his head.

"Hi, Snowflake."

"Tony."

Yep, all was not well.

"What's wrong?"

Loki's eyelashes fluttered. "I feel… odd," he murmured. "Fatigued. Nauseous."

"Hm." Tony stroked the god's knee with the back of his hand. "Probably the side effects of Prozac. Try taking less, next time. Or, I'll find you something else, we'll see."

"Thank you." His hand caught Tony's; the skin was cold to the contact, but the inventor didn't pull away. Instead, he brought those pale knuckles to his lips, letting hot breath swirl around them, and he'd swear he felt a shiver run through Loki's body.

"Tell Thor's woman she should remove herself from the garden."

"Huh?"

Tony's turned around. Sure enough, Jane was still standing exactly where she'd been before, observing the couple.

"Her name is Jane. I think you're angry at Thor, not her."

"Am I not allowed to dislike her?" One perfect eyebrow-arch coming right up.

"Sure, you are. Of course." Tony covered Loki's hand with his free one. "Will you come inside with me? Clint, Tasha, and Steve are gone. I'll make sure Thor leaves you alone."

Loki pressed his lips together. Tony shook his head.

"Don't give me that. This is our home, not theirs. I can kick them out. Hell, you can kick them out. Through the door, leave the windows, okay?"

A faint smile curled the Trickster's lips, and Tony went on,

"You want to rest? You get to rest. It's not their place to—"

"I like it out here."

"Oh. Um, you can stay if you want."

But the god shook his head. "I'll come with you. Just don't… I'll come with you."

Just don't what?

Tony helped Loki to his feet and wrapped an arm around his waist. It didn't come as a surprise when Loki slipped away; he never allowed others to witness any kind of intimacy between them. It was a wonder he'd let Tony hold his hand. Or, perhaps less of a wonder and more of an indicator of his current mental state.

Jane stood still, watching them approach. Her eyes settled on Loki's face.

"You're not really the bad guy, are you?" she said when they were merely a foot or two apart.

The corner of the god's mouth twitched. "That is for me to know and for you to find out, Jane."

And Tony had to internally smile, too, because that counted as a victory, and Loki let him hold his hand as they walked past the scientist. The sort-of-luck ended when they entered the house only to run into Thor almost right away. The Thunderer opened his mouth, practically begging with his sky-blue eyes, but Loki beat him to it.

"Don't. Just don't."

"Let us talk about it, brother, please!"

"I said don't!" Loki's eyes flashed dangerously. "Now, get out."

Thor's eyes darkened. Tony sent a look of warning in his direction, and the god's expression morphed into one of resignation.

"Thank you for your hospitality. We'll be on our way, then."

"I'll see you around," Tony said.

Loki didn't say anything.

* * *

A/N: *Nicole Galland: I, Iago

**=duel practiced by early Scandinavians; an answer to grave insults, e.g. argr and the like. If you haven't yet, you should google argr and ntihing and the like. Seriously. Viking morals were [insert (in)appropriate word here]...

Also, I guess I like Jane. She /was/ the one who gave Thor a chance when Eric wanted nothing to do with him. While she might not likeLoki, she is smart enought to put two and two together.

My finals start this week, meaning I'll be studying like crazy, meaning I won't really have time to write, but I'll probably send school to a certain very hot place and write anyway... But if I don't, you'll know why.

Please, drop a review. Stay awesome!

~CB


	22. Chapter 22: Fenruary 24 - March 3

_And we agreed to get up early_

_To make our way to the place I have described to you._

_~Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales_

**February 24****th**

He found Loki sitting at the table with his hands wrapped around a mug, and a slow piece of classical music drifting through the air.

"Morning, babe," he said a bit more enthusiastically than was necessary, but hey, he'd actually slept well, and that worked wonders.

"Morning," Loki muttered back, staring at the contents of his mug, and Tony's face fell. They'd gone to bed together, and then Tony slept, and when he woke up, Loki was gone.

"How are you?" He placed his hands on Loki's shoulders.

A shrug. "I'm alive."

"I'm certainly glad to hear that."

Loki dropped his head back, so that it rested against Tony's front. "I didn't really sleep."

"Oh." Tony ran his fingers through the other's hair. "Sorry. You know you can take the pills anytime."

"You—"

"Anytime. Sleep during the day if you want, I don't mind."

"You're a fool, Tony. My body can go without sleep much longer than a human's," Loki said and gently pushed him away so he could get up. "Let's make us something to eat."

"Sure." Perhaps Loki wasn't in such a bad mood after all. Maybe Tony was overanalyzing and subsequently being overly worried. Life went o,n no matter what.

He started making coffee while Loki pushed slices of bread in the toaster, moving around the kitchen with more certainty than Tony ever had. It could be because he was a prince. Or, he simply liked to cook, although even Tony could manage preparing some toast.

He inhaled slowly. It was probably as good a moment as any to start a discussion…

"Can I talk to you about something?"

"What is it?" Loki took the butter out of the refrigerator and reached back inside for something else.

"Do you know what a psychiatrist is?"

"Some sort of doctor, I think," Loki replied casually, placing jelly on the counter and turning to the fridge yet again.

"Yes. Loki…"

The god stopped mid-motion. "No. No, no, no, Stark, no! I'm not ill, I don't need a doctor."

"I know you're not," Tony hurried.

"Then what do you want? I won't be anybody's lab rat." Loki's lips formed a thin, straight line.

"It's nothing like that! Do you think I would let them poke, and prod, and experiment on you? Do you really think that?"

Hadn't he proven he would stand by Loki's side, not stab him in the back? Hadn't they been through enough together?

Some of the hurt must have been visible on his face, because Loki's expression softened.

"I'm not used to somebody… I'm not used to"—he waved his hand around—"all that."

"But you really thought I would let people…?"

Loki averted his gaze. "I was hoping you wouldn't," he said in a small voice. Trust issues the size of Milky Way? Why did that sound so familiar again?

"Would you let somebody do those kind of things to me?"

Loki's head snapped up. "No."

Judging by the way it suddenly became just a little easier to breathe, Tony might not have been one hundred percent sure, either.

"Neither would I, if I had anything to say about it. Well, even if I didn't. You know I don't need to be asked for an opinion." He smirked.

Loki remained serious, but there was a tiny spark in his eyes as he pulled himself onto the counter. His legs, covered with the same leather boots as always, dangled in the air.

"If you would explain the matter, then?"

"The… Oh, right, psychiatrists. Yeah." Tony sipped his coffee. "They _are_ doctors, just not the usual kind. They… Some people who go to see them are completely healthy. They simply want somebody to talk to when it becomes too much. Okay, maybe that's more often the case with psychologists. Never mind that—unimportant details. Thing is, psychiatrists are doctors for the mind. Not like all the patients are crazy, okay, some are just burnt out, or they have phobias, or they feel depressed. I had a therapist when I got out of that thrice damned cave in the desert. Pepper could use one sometimes when I'm driving her crazy, and Fury totally needs some help with anger management… You get the idea."

"Yes," Loki said slowly, eyes narrowed in thought.

"I think it would help you to see a psychiatrist. Believe me, if I could fix everything—and I wish I could, I really do—I would, but I'm almost as messed up as you, and there's only so much I can do, and they're professionals. I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with, but I have no idea how to help you, and if they can—"

"Stark. Come here."

Tony blinked once, and then once more, but he moved to stand in front of Loki. The god cupped his face, tilting it upwards. His eyes were so green, and brilliant, and earnest.

"You did more for me than anyone else. Don't ever think it was not enough."

Tony swallowed. He was this close to getting lost in Loki's gaze, and oh, Loki's lips touched his, and shit, what was this thing people called reality again?

A faint unpleasant smell reached his nose, grounding him again. He pulled away. Why did his kitchen smell like something was burning in there?

Oh. Right. The toast.

"Shit!" He jumped to the toaster and turned it off. "Why the hell didn't it pop out? Stupid machine! I bet my kitchen conspired against me!" He frowned, smacking the toaster in a half-serious way, and Loki giggled.

_Giggled_.

Tony's ears would have perked up if they could. God, he loved that ridiculous, adorable sound.

"I take it you're the main conspirator, hm?" he asked, trying to keep a straight face.

"Naturally." Loki grinned. "I spent days scheming. Mission 'how to burn Stark's breakfast' successfully accomplished."

"Right…" He really didn't want to spoil the mood, not after they had both been _happy_ in the last few moments. However, he couldn't leave the previous conversation hanging. "Loki, will you think about it?"

"What…"—Loki raised his chin just a little—"what would they do to me?"

Do? Tony blinked. "Oh. Nothing. Well, they could give you medication, but mostly they lead a conversation with you."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I know." Tony threw the burnt toast into the trash can. "Listen, it's hard to explain. They wouldn't force you to talk about anything. They might ask you questions you find completely unconnected to the whole… Chitauri deal. And, you can always choose not to answer."

Loki hopped off the counter and opened one of the cupboards. "I'll think about it," he said, grabbing a bag of bagels.

Tony nodded. That was probably all he could ever ask for.

**February 27****th**

Tony woke to the sound of music, a quiet melody drifting through the bedroom. It took his hazy mind a while to register he'd never heard the piece before, and, more importantly, that it was not at all instrumental music he was hearing, but a voice.

Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm, he rolled onto his side; the mattress shifted under him, and the singing stopped.

"Sorry," he heard Loki say from the foot of the bed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"No." Tony sat up, eyes landing on Loki's back. "It's okay. What were you singing?"

The god didn't move. He was sitting cross-legged, leaning back on his hands, still dressed in the sweatpants and the sweatshirt he used for sleeping. His hair was falling softly on his shoulders, wavy and yet untamed. Tony's fingers itched from the sudden impulse to bury themselves in those locks.

"Just an old poem."

"Really?" Tony pushed his blankets aside, so that he could crawl over the bed and settle beside Loki.

"Really."

Tony didn't say anything. It was too early to be talkative, plus he had not had his morning coffee yet. His arm brushed against Loki's (and the contact totally did not send a wave of the most pleasant kind of warmth through his veins). The god leaned into the touch. Tony heard him inhale.

And then, he heard him sing, softly, teasing the melody to life.

_Hljóðs bið ek allar  
helgar kindir,  
meiri ok minni  
mögu Heimdallar;  
viltu at ek, Valföðr,  
vel fyr telja  
forn spjöll fira,  
þau er fremst of man._

Tony's head fell onto Loki's shoulder. You know what? Screw coffee in bed. This was officially his favourite way to start a day. Damn, Loki could _sing_.

_Ek man jötna  
ár of borna,  
þá er forðum mik  
fædda höfðu;  
níu man ek heima,  
níu íviðjur,  
mjötvið mæran  
fyr mold neðan…_

Loki paused. A breath trembled on his lips.

"I'll give it a try," he said. "The psychiatrist."

Tony only pressed his lips against the other's neck.

_Ár var alda,  
þar er ekki var,  
var-a sandr né sær  
né svalar unnir;  
jörð fannsk æva  
né upphiminn,  
gap var ginnunga  
en gras hvergi…_

**March 3****rd**

Loki did not have nervous gestures. He didn't worry his lips, or keep pushing his hair out of his face, or tap his foot against the floor. There were gestures of irritation, such as flexing his fingers or huffing in exasperation, but never of nervousness. Yet, Tony could tell the god was feeling apprehensive. Call it intuition or the subconscious understanding of body language, he could tell.

He sat down next to Loki, relaxing into the couch, and let his hand brush against the other's one.

"They're late," Loki said.

"I'm late all the time."

"Yes, but when I'm waiting for you, I can always walk straight into your office and drag you out."

"Or, you threaten to set all my coffee machines on fire." The inventor could totally imagine Loki doing it. "Relax. Everything will be fine."

"I am perfectly relaxed, Stark. It is merely their lateness making me irritated."

Tony had to smile. "Admit it, you're not even trying."

"Trying what?"

"To lie."

Loki shot him a glare that spoke volumes. He might have said something, too, if it wasn't for Jarvis announcing their guests had arrived. He tensed against Tony just the slightest. The billionaire squeezed his hand.

"There's nothing wrong with getting help," he assured for what had to be about seventy-fourth time in the last five days. Loki was quick to adjust to new concepts and had never been very fond of Aesir convictions, but even he had trouble shedding thousand years old believes. "It's for me, too."

Because yeah, Loki was the one dealing with the biggest trauma here, but Tony had hear one or two things too many _and_ he'd never got any therapy after New York had happened. He'd come to understand he probably should have, instead of being his usual tough self and pretending anxiety had never gripped his lungs so hard he couldn't breathe just because it had stopped happening after a while.

Loki wriggled his hand free and stood up. Tony raised an eyebrow, causing Loki to smirk.

"You won't greet our dear doctor? What a bad host you are."

"Oh, shut it." Tony grinned. It was too late to be polite, anyway. Bruce strolled into the living room, wearing a terrible combination of a yellow shirt and brownish grey pants that made Tony want to roll his eyes. Scratch that, it made him roll his eyes, period. What it made him _want_ was to take Bruce shopping. Right now. r better yet, yesterday.

Following Bruce was a thirty-something woman with a round-shaped face framed by light brown waves. The strap of her bag wrinkled the fabric of her crisp white shirt.

"Hey, Jekyll-and-Hyde." Tony nodded at Bruce. "Are you free tomorrow? I'm so taking you shopping, buddy."

Bruce smiled while the woman just stared.

"Way to make an impression," Loki whispered in Tony's ear. "I see why you need a doctor."

"Asshole," Tony murmured back.

"If you're all done muttering nonsense in each other's ears…?"

"You think we're done?" Tony whispered to Loki, whose eyes held a mischievous spark.

"I don't know. Are we?"

"Good question," Tony replied. "Is it just me, or is Brucie becoming a little green? I think he's envious. In fact, I'm sure he's envious."

Loki chuckled, close enough to Tony's ear that the engineer could feel hot breath on his skin, and it sent shivers down his spine.

The woman dug her hands into the pockets of her pants with a small smile dancing on her lips. "Bruce, are you sure what these two need is not simply an etiquette book?"

"Steve gave me one for Christmas, thanks," Tony said quickly. He was beginning to think he could (maybe) grow to like that woman (a little bit).

Bruce groaned. "I see it had no effect whatsoever. This is Liv Carlson."

Tony was just about to open his mouth, brain working on a smart retort, when Loki stepped past him and offered his hand to Liv.

"Loki," he said, avoiding a surname as per usual. "Or, Luke Reyes, if you'd prefer my earthly alias. Pleased to meet you, Ms Carlson."

"Liv," she said, shaking his hand. She seemed a little surprised, but not even half as much as Tony, who had to remind himself that Loki, reserved, secretive, and sometimes outright antagonistic Loki, was, after all, a prince and had mastered all the tricks of good behaviour before Tony's existence was even planned.

"Liv. Do sit down."

Well, at least he'd settled for simple politeness instead of trying to come across as charming. Tony had no doubts Loki could have women swooning. That was, if he wanted. Women would certainly be all too eager to respond suitably.

But perhaps, he wasn't used to making them swoon. Tony had to ask about that sometime.

"_Thank_ you." Bruce gave Tony a Look. The inventor shrugged. It wasn't like his friends needed _permission_ to sit.

"All right." Liv sat down and swung one leg over the other. "To clarify things right away—I'm a psychologist, not a psychiatrist. If you feel the need for medication, I'm certain you'll be able to get it somehow, is that not so, Mr Stark?"

"You never heard me say yes."

"And you never heard me suggest it."

Tony flashed her a grin. "Where did Bruce find you?"

"I'm an acquaintance of Betty Ross."

"Ah, so the whole I-know-someone-who-knows-someone-who-knows someone story. Classic."

"Right." Liv switched her legs; the right one came to rest on the top, now. "I trust you two know what you're doing?"

Tony's smile disappeared faster than Thor could eat a pop tart (and that was _way_ too fast). "Do _you_ know what you're doing here?"

"Tony, please," Bruce started, but Tony held up a hand.

"No. I'm serious. Our lives are not fairytales." They'd been giant clusterfucks, if anything.

Then, he felt the tip of Loki's boot gently touch his foot. "I know how to use words," the god said quietly. And wasn't that bizarre, the 'patients' worrying about their doctor's nerves, or mental state, or whatever? Really, Earth had probably started to spin the other way sometime in the last couple of years.

"And I am not a little girl, Mr Stark. Now, shall we discuss your appointments?"

Tony nodded. "Sounds like a good idea." He turned towards Loki, who gave a short nod.

The conversation came easy. Tony was his usual cheeky self while Loki kept dancing on the edge between perfect politeness and conspiring with Tony. Even so, the god's foot remained right next to Tony's the whole time.

* * *

A/N: 1. The poem Loki sings is called Völuspá, and it's from the Poetic Edda. You can find it here:

www 'dot' lienet 'dot' priv 'dot' no 'slash' objects 'slash' 01%20-%Vel 'dot' mp3 - singing

www 'dot' vikingsanswerslady 'dot' com 'slash' music 'dot' html - music

www 'dot' voluspa 'dot' org 'slash' voluspa 'dot' html - lyrics with translation

(In case any of the links is incorrect, please let me know, and I'll correct them.)

2. Because I like playing with names... Liv is both an English and a Scandinavian name, and the Scandinavian derives from the Old Norse name Hilf, which means 'protection.' And, Reyes means king (from Latin rex), but I swear this one was not on purpose. I saw the name, liked it, and then looked up the meaning.

3. 'thousand years old believes' I know I meantioned Loki's age before, but just in case you're wondering-I'm going with the information from Thor. That lovely little date (965 A.D.) shown at the beginning? Yeah. If that was the time of the war, oki must have been born around that time.

Please review ;)


	23. Epilogue: October 27

A/N: All right, finally an update. (You know that thing called finals? Yeah, it's not writing friendly.)

There's a note at the end of this, and it's long, but please, at least read the second part, because it concerns the story and plans for what's abotu to happen with it in the future and so.

To hellomynsmeislucifer: I can't thank you enough for all your work. You're the best!

Last part: Ennio Morricone—The Mission Main Theme

* * *

**October 27****th**

"_For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home."  
~__Stephanie Perkins__, __Anna and the French Kiss_

Tony carefully placed the plate, filled to the point where blueberries almost rolled off the pancakes and straight onto the floor, on the nightstand. The smell was intoxicating, and Tony's mouth watered, although he would have preferred maple syrup, lots and lots of maple syrup, to the Nutella that was piled up by the decorated edge of the plate.

But, there was something that made his desire for pancakes seem as small as a pin compared to a whale.

Or rather, some_one_.

Tony sat down on the edge of the bed. Seconds passed while he did nothing but admire the curled-up form of his sleeping boyfriend; the rhythmic rising and falling of his shoulder under the covers, silky black hair scattered over the white pillow, those dangerous lips parted just so. Slender fingers that could bring beauty to life with precise brushes of a pencil or simply by drawing patterns in the air were curled together and drawn to the lean, muscular chest.

Tony's breathing hitched. He could never get tired of the sight. Even after months had passed, Loki needed to do absolutely nothing and could still render the inventor breathless.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," he murmured and pressed a kiss to Loki's temple. The god shifted, mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, and proceeded to ignore his surroundings. This time, Tony's lips captured his mouth, engaging him just enough that he gasped for breath when they parted.

"Happy birthday."

At that, green eyes (how was there _still_ no law that would forbid such gorgeous eyes?) snapped open.

"Tony, you don't know when my birthday is," the god drawled sleepily and rolled onto his back. "_I_ don't even know when my birthday is."

The inventor grinned. "My point exactly."

Loki blinked, his black eyelashes in stark contrast to his complexion. "So, you picked a random date?"

Tony's grin stretched even wider. "Pretty much, yeah. Also, you could totally be a Scorpio. Stubborn, resentful, manipulating—ugh—"

Loki's hand was twisted in his shirt before he even had time to blink, and a moment later he was pulled down on top of the god, and that sinful mouth opened for him. His knee slid between Loki's legs while the god sucked on his lower lip.

"Oh…" was all Tony managed to get out when they finally parted. Seriously, oxygen was overrated.

"What was that again?"

"I meant determined"—he kissed Loki's forehead—"strong"—his cheekbone—"brilliant"—his temple—"intense"—his jaw—"wonderful"—the corner of his lips—"perfect little shit, and I love you"—and finally his smile, but the kiss kind of failed because they were both grinning way too wide to still be considered sane, and the sparks in Loki's eyes did things to Tony. And maybe, maybe Tony's eyes did something to Loki, too, because he shifted a little, causing their hips to brush just so, and Tony had to fight the desire to throw all the plans for today straight out of the window (heh, window) and continue grinding their hips together until Loki was a panting mess, or perhaps push a hand into his pants and—

Yeah, his plans were a better idea. Sure, he'd brought Loki to a few climaxes, but that was always a dangerous ground to tread on (because, while Loki had certainly enjoyed it, Tony could tell that he clearly lacked confidence when it came to sexuality, that he never let go completely, could almost hear the god purposefully reminding himself to focus on here and now, just here and now, on Tony's hand he was gripping just this side of too tightly and refused to let go the whole time, on Tony's words, kind and gentle and caring, on _Tony_ and _here_ and _now_). They had other things to do.

"All right, princess. I brought you breakfast." Tony climbed off the god, so that he was sitting beside his hip again.

Loki pulled himself up, as well, and leaned against the headboard. "Thank the Norns you only brought it for me, otherwise you'd surely have to change the sheets."

"I'm totally capable of eating like a cultivated human being."

"Of course you are." Loki rolled a blueberry between his fingers before pushing it past his lips.

"And I'll prove it." The inventor grabbed a pancake off the pile, wagging it at Loki, who simply snatched it away and started chewing on it. Tony would have pulled a face if he wasn't too busy smiling. Life was still not perfect, but it was so much better than before.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

"Tony, for the fourteenth time, where are we going?"

"I've told you thirteen times already—to the airport."

"Since I still refuse to believe that is the final destination, I will continue to ask."

Tony groaned in his mind. Leave it to Loki to annoy him until he was about ready to swim to Europe. But, he did kind of bring this on himself.

"Look, I know you don't like surprises too much, but if I told you I was going to pretty much randomly choose a date and pretend it's your birthday, it wouldn't have half the effect. We're going to London."

"You know"—Loki placed his elbow on the edge of the car window—"I could have teleported us."

"Now where's the fun in that?"

One perfect eyebrow arch coming right up. "Stop stealing my lines."

"How about no?" Tony smirked. "You get to cuddle with me the whole flight. No work, no competitive cats—"

"No socks lying around."

The billionaire punched Loki's shoulder, keeping his eyes on the road. "I'm sure you'll like it."

Loki muttered something under his breath but refrained from commenting. Tony quietly sighed. Okay, so things could have gone better. Then again, Loki wasn't _really_ in a bad mood, just suffering from his I-need-to-know-what's-happening complex.

Barely a minute passed before Tony parked his Audi R8. Or better, before he simply stopped the car; 'parking' somehow implied leaving the car in a specifically marked place (at least to him it did), and the middle of the airport was certainly not a marked parking lot.

"Have I ever mentioned I love having a private plane?" Tony climbed out of the car and slammed the door closed.

Loki pouted (adorably). "I thought you loved _me_."

"Yeah, well, you vanished one chair too many from under my butt." Contrary to his words, he entwined his fingers with Loki's. "Leave the plane's engines alone, okay? And, maybe stop the chair thing. My poor ass is bruised all—hey! Slapping it won't help!"

Enjoying Loki's chuckle, Tony ascended the stairs. A petite stewardess greeted him at the door, and he was about to reply when movement caught his eye. He quickly made another step in. And felt his eyebrows disappear into his hair.

"What the hell are you guys doing here?"

"Well," Steve started, but then Loki entered as well, and his eyebrows arched much more elegantly than Tony's. It simply wasn't fair.

"Hi," the god said, turning to Tony for explanation.

The billionaire showed his palms defensively. "I have nothing to do with that."

"Bruce spilled the beans," Natasha said. "We might as well play along."

Tony's eyes travelled from her to Clint, who was looking like he would probably rather be somewhere else if he got to choose, but hadn't had bloody murder written all over his face for quite some time, now, to Bruce, whose smile was small but completely genuine, Steve, who stepped forward, and finally to Loki, who just stared at them, as if trying to comprehend why the situation was supposed to make sense, if it was supposed to, at all.

"So." Steve stretched out his hand. "Happy birthday?"

Loki blinked. And did it again. Slowly, he grasped the offered hand. "Thank you?"

"Yeah, no," Tony chimed in. "You don't put question marks at the end. Try that again."

He watched him shake hands with everybody, and when Loki's eyes met Clint's in a silent exchange of something, he found himself wondering when things had progressed so much. They'd worked together a couple of times (having a mage on their team was damn useful, although said mage promptly refused any kind of legal partnership with SHIELD) and spent a few evenings together, especially in the latest months, but it was impossible to tell when hostility had turned to mistrust, then to some sort of grudging acceptance, and lastly to this odd acquaintanceship that was not just tolerance and collaboration, but wasn't friendship, either.

"We bought a gift," Bruce said. "Before you blame me—I didn't choose it."

For a moment, Tony was dying of curiosity. Then, Natasha reached behind the seats… And pulled out a human-sized Iron Man plush.

What the hell?

But Loki laughed (genuinely, because his eyes held that spark that could make Tony want to pluck the stars from the sky if Loki so desired) and wrapped his arms around the toy (Tony was not jealous, why would he be jealous of a thing _pressed against_ _Loki's whole body_?).

"Thank you," he said.

"Yeah." Tony nodded. "_Thank_ you. Where the hell did you get it?"

Natasha cocked her head. "It was either this one or Superman."

"Okay, I take everything back."

"Thought you'd say that."

"All right. Whatever. It was nice seeing you, have a nice day, bye."

Steve shifted a little. Loki placed his hand on Tony's shoulder.

"I think they desire a flight to London."

Of course they did. Of course. "What am I, Stark Airlines? Tony Airways?"

"Please, Tony? You're flying anyway."

Yes. Yes, he was. With _Loki_. And, he'd been planning on letting bad science fiction play in the background while he cuddled with Loki on those very comfortable leather seats, sipping something with a low percentage of alcohol, because they still had the whole day before them, laughing at lame jokes, and murmuring things he would never ever utter in the presence of any other person but Loki.

He was glad they'd come to congratulate Loki, but now he selfishly wanted him all to himself, thank you very much.

His thoughts must have been visible on his face, for Natasha shifted towards the entrance. "Another time, then."

Tony nodded. Ignoring that little pang of guilt was not so hard, after all. Natasha nodded back, then cocked her head towards the door. "Come on, guys."

Clint frowned. "What about—"

"Wait."

Tony's head turned towards Loki in a nanosecond, eyes asking for an explanation. Did the god _want_ the others around? If the way they were looking now at Loki, then at Tony was anything to go by, they were just as surprised.

"Give us a moment," Loki said even as he led Tony to the other side of the plane. He leaned forward a bit. "Let them stay."

"I wanted to be alone with you."

"I'd prefer that, too."

"Then, why do you want them to come with us?"

"They're your friends. And, they brought me a gift."

"So?"

Loki opened his mouth and sucked in a breath, then pressed his lips together abruptly. Exhaled. His lips parted again, and he bowed his head just the slightest.

"Birthdays are not celebrated on Asgard," he said slowly, as if he were picking up each word in his mind and carefully turning it around to examine it before it slipped off his tongue. "Birth, yes. But not birthdays. A year is not much time compared to the whole duration of our lifespan. We don't have many holidays at all."

"How boring," Tony mumbled. A life without all those wonderful excuses for drinking? Dreadful.

"Not particularly. Considering most of your holidays originate from some form of worship or another, it makes perfect sense that we do not have them. We are the gods humans worshiped. But, worry not"—Loki's lips stretched into a grin—"we do have feasts, although they do tend to turn rather barbaric sometimes… It all depends on the amount of mead certain individuals consume." He grimaced.

"What I am trying to say here: celebrations in Asgard follow deeds deemed worthy of celebration. Rewards are given to those who deserved them. Of course, one can always offer a present to somebody. Parents give things to their children. I gave—" He paused. "It is reciprocal: you give something, you get something. Or, you are something, and you get something. Odin gets gifts because he is king and people desire his favour. Husbands buy things for their wives, because they are their wives and because of everything they do as their wives. And your birthdays, they are celebrations of being, are they not? You celebrate one's existence. Not deeds, not roles, simply being."

"Well, yeah. Don't Aesir ever give anything to anyone just because they like them? What about lovers? Friends?"

"Of course they do. But they're not my friends."

He did not need to explain who 'they' were, and Tony could almost see a light bulb appear above his own head and turn on, cartoon style.

"You think you have to repay them? A present for a flight? They should've bought _me_ a present, then."

"But, I owe them now."

Tony's frown deepened. "I do stuff for you all the time."

"We're together."

"Okay, yeah, I see the point, but trust me, they didn't buy you a present to have you in their debt," Tony said, keeping his voice low. "It's a custom. Just a silly present, okay? Nothing important."

Loki averted his gaze, and Tony decided he had enough of the not-touching and cupped Loki's face with his hands.

"Look at me," he murmured. A second later he found himself staring into green eyes filled with something that could very well be nostalgia or longing.

Loki's hands wrapped around Tony's wrists. "It's not nothing if you never receive it." He lowered the billionaire's hands and made to slip away, but Tony grabbed his hand.

"What do you mean never?"

Loki's lips formed a sour smile. "I told you, it is deeds that are rewarded, not being. I happen to achieve my goals through the wrong means." He shook his hand off Tony's grip and turned towards the little group by the door. "You're free to come with us."

Tony opened his mouth to speak once more, but Loki beat him to it.

"Maybe, I want to repay them. Maybe, I would have let them stay without the preset, too," he said, and ooh, why hadn't he said so in the first place, since it actually made sense. Maybe, if Tony were in his shoes, he would have done exactly the same; if Loki's relationship with the rest of the Avengers showed potential for improvement, why not put a little effort in it? Not that Loki would ever admit trying. Oh, no.

Tony instructed the stewardess to tell the pilot they were ready to take off, half-listening to the 'thank you's muttered to Loki.

Well, then. Might as well enjoy the ride.

"So." Tony flopped down onto his favourite seat. "Was Pepper a part of the present-conspiracy?"

Bruce shook his head as he sat down at the bar. "She said she'd already found the perfect gift."

"Oh yeah?" Tony arched an eyebrow. "What would that be?"

Smirking, Loki slipped into the seat opposite to Tony and leaned his elbows on the table."An album full of your baby pictures."

"She didn't…"

"Oh, but she did. It was very much to my liking." Loki grinned.

Of course, he would find it amusing. Pff. Pepper was gonna hear it for that. Agent was getting _her_ baby pictures for his next birthday… Whenever it was. He'd have to check. A note for his inner Jarvis. Wait, his what?

"Don't sulk. You were adorable."

Yes, because 'adorable' was a word all grown men wanted to have associated with them. Uh-huh. No. It was only reserved for Loki's pouting, and the way his hair curled in the morning, and for his puppy eyes, and huffing. There, that was it. Oh, and his sleeping face. And the way he purred like a kitten when Tony massaged his neck. Or scalp. Or hands. Or—

He'd better stop now.

"Thank you," he said, words dripping with sarcasm. Luckily, two stewardesses brought out the drinks, successfully ending whatever future discussion there could have been. Tony sipped his Pinot noir and almost coughed when Loki purposefully swirled his tongue around the edge of his glass, as if trying to catch a stray droplet of wine. Instead, he opted for kicking the god under the table. That was precisely why he didn't want the others on the plane.

"Hey, Tony," Steve suddenly called from the bar. "Did you bring a cake? You can't have a birthday without a cake."

Tony smirked. "Sure, I brought it. I wanted to save it for later, but since you've brought it up… Hey, sweetheart"—he waved to the stewardess beside the door separating the room from the other parts of the plane—"bring the cake, yeah?"

Natasha arched an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to be in a monogamous relationship?"

Seriously, he hadn't done anything! "I _am _in a monogamous relationship." Well, he wouldn't mind an occasional threesome sometime in the future, but that was beside the point.

"Of course, _sweetheart_."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Please. Like Loki would ever allow me to call him sweetheart—ouch!" He glowered at his boyfriend; that kick was certainly going to leave a bruise on his shin.

"Don't encourage his nickname-usage, please," Loki said.

"He only ever calls you Loki, so don't complain. Contrary to the popularly belief, my name is _not_ Angry Birds, or William Tell, or Legolas, or _Cupid_!" Clint huffed in exasperation, and Loki chuckled. Tony did, too. Oh, he had nicknames for everyone. But while Loki allowed him to call him Snowflake, or babe, or whatever in private (Tony strongly suspected he even liked it), he would not let it go unpunished if Tony were to use these names in public.

"Your cake, Mr Stark." The stewardess returned and put the plate with big, frosting-covered, chocolate cake onto the table. Then, she disappeared again and returned shortly after with plates while another girl brought glasses and champagne.

"So." Tony beamed, grabbed the knife, and offered it to Loki. "You get to cut the thing."

"What about candles?" Steve asked.

Candles? "Shit, I knew I forgot something!" That was what happened when neither Loki nor Pepper were involved in the organisation. Good job, Tony Stark. Awesome.

But, Loki only smiled at him. "Please, forego the singing, too. It is most ridiculous."

At that, Clint's eyes lit up. "Oh, no! You don't get to avoid this!"

Amused, Tony watched Loki roll his eyes as they sort of sang Happy Birthday (what, it was _hard_ to sing with lips stretched almost to his ears), and it turned out Clint was the only one who could not sing at all, and then Loki cut the cake, and Tony's chest swelled with pride, because the thing was actually delicious, which meant something, since—

"Where'd you get the cake?"

"Oh." He grinned. "I made it."

Loki almost spit out a mouthful of frosting. "You what?"

Tony shrugged, faking nonchalance. "I practiced."

"What, for two months?"

"Three, actually," Tony muttered, and the heat in his cheeks was certainly not a sign he was blushing, never that, Tony Stark didn't do blushing, but then Loki grabbed the front of his T-shirt and pulled him in for a kiss, and Tony Stark didn't do swooning, either, nope, never.

He did, however, ignore suggestions like, "Get a room!"

~*oO*o*Oo*~

Tony liked London. Not the getting-from-the-airport-to-the-city part, but he liked the centre. Strangely, strolling down the Thames while his fingers were entwined with Loki's made it at least twice as appealing. He'd never thought being a tour guide could be fun. Then again, maybe it had something to do with Loki's presence.

"The Houses of Parliament." Tony pointed across the river. "They look totally gothic, but they're actually not."

"Neo-gothic, then?"

Tony's jaw was going to have a lovely bruise from that landing on the ground. "How do you know that?"

Loki shrugged. "I read about it."

"You studied art history. Go figure. Anyway, I call it fake-gothic. You know how many people snap pictures of that baby, thinking they're seeing a prime example of well-preserved gothic architecture?"

"Really? How long did you share that belief?"

Tony threw him a glare. "Whatever made you think that?"

"Just my imagination. Do tell me more." Loki squeezed the man's hand a little, and Tony returned the gesture. With his other hand, he pointed at the Elizabeth Tower.

"That would be the Big Ben. It's actually the name of the bell, but everyone misuses it, because they don't actually know what's called. Not that I do. Nobody knows that."

"If selling the future ever stops being profitable, you should look into a career as a tour guide," Loki said.

"I'll have Jarvis remind me of that. Anyhow, jumping off the thing is not recommended. Unless you're Jackie Chan." He turned around. "And… The London Eye. We should take a ride. We definitely need to take a ride. Oohh, and a phone booth! I want a picture of you inside it!"

Loki rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. "How old are you again?"

"Oh my God, you can't just ask people how old they are! You do that to a woman, you're dead meat! Now, let me take a picture, pleeeease?"

His puppy-eyes may not have been of Aesir quality, but they seem to work just fine.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

They did go for a ride on the London Eye, and ended up not seeing much of the city, because Tony decided the inside of Loki's mouth was much more interesting than rooftops, and the rest was history.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

"And this"—Tony made a dramatic gesture towards a white polygonal building with beams incorporated into the façade—"is the real reason we're here."

"Uh-huh."

"Yes." Their fingers were _still _intertwined (and Tony liked to pretend they hadn't let go of each other's hand the whole time at all, and that was huge, a freakin' miracle at least, because Loki, and affections, and public didn't mix very well). "The Globe Theatre. _Shakespeare's_ theatre. Well, the reconstruction. But, the original did serve as a theatre for Shakespeare's group. Don't ask me about them, I've seriously no idea about it. Except that they were under patronage of Queen James. Er, I mean _King_ James. My bad."

Loki arched an eyebrow (in a completely adorable way). "I sense a story behind this, _sweetheart_."

"Oh, there's more than one."

Loki cocked his head.

"He was bi. Amusing, but not important right now. Even now, the theatre is in use. And guess what, I happen to have two tickets for Midsummer's Night Dream."

Loki blinked. And did it again. Then slowly, his lips stretched into an honest-to-God smile that made his face positively beam in a way that could make people believe he and Thor were actually related, but Tony's thoughts were nowhere near Thor in that moment. Before he knew it, he had his mouth full of Loki's tongue and Loki's hands buried in his hair, his baseball cap dropping to the ground (he did not need to be recognised by every journalist in London, thank you very much).

"Thank you," the god gasped when he finally decided to be merciful and refrained from causing Tony's death by means of suffocation. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." When had Tony lost the last bits of control over his mouth? Nobody with a grin this wide should be allowed into public, even if he'd had every last atom of oxygen sucked out of him by his drop-dead-gorgeous boyfriend. "Also, you totally made me reconsider spending the next three hours in a public place."

Loki probably would have smirked if his face wasn't morphed into that uncharacteristic thousand-watt smile. "Do behave," he said instead.

"Naturally." Tony picked up his cap and ran a hand through his hair before putting it back on. "Come on, let's go watch Puck mess things up. I'd bet he does it on purpose."

"He lacks style," Loki grumbled.

"Of course he does. Pink hair dye is so much more sophisticated."

Not deeming that worthy of a reply, Loki strode towards the entrance of the theatre.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

Loki loved the play. Tony could see it in the intense focus of his gaze, in the smallest of wrinkles around the corner of his mouth where it curled upwards just the slightest, in the way his expression was not quite as guarded. Oh, and the way he seemed (which was, of course, no guarantee) not to notice that Tony missed about half the action on the stage because he was too busy stealing looks at Loki and wondering why all this made him feel like a schoolgirl with a terrible crush when he was supposed to be an adult, and that, in and of itself, was quite telling.

Afterwards, he was pulled into another kiss. He may or may not have heard something that sounded suspiciously like fangirl squeaking.

"I take it this means you like your present so far," he said, a little breathless.

"Whatever gives you the idea," Loki replied.

"My amazingly developed sixth sense."

"Your sixth sense is about as good as a bilgesnipe's."

"You wound me."

"I would never, _sweetheart_."

"Of course not. How about I show you one of Queen James's stories, hm?"

~*oO*o*Oo*~

One visit to National Portrait Gallery, a dinner in Chinatown, a couple of minutes of admiring the flashy neon signs on Piccadilly Circus, and a few subway rides later, Tony's legs were killing him.

He groaned.

"Hm?" Loki glanced his way. "Did you say something?"

"We need to stop walking. My poor feet will suffer permanent damage."

"Then, what do we do?"

"Well." Tony dug his hands into his pockets. "I wanted to show you Buckingham Palace, but that would require more walking, which—no. And, there is something else you should see, but it's in New York. We can go home, or we can find a nice hotel and stay here for a couple of days."

"Or"—Loki took off his scarf and wrapped it around his neck anew—"we can go home and come back here whenever we want."

When he put it that way…

"Okay."

"Very well. Give me your hand."

"Not that I object, but why?"

Loki raised his eyebrows. "I'm teleporting us," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. To him, it very well might have been. Not that Tony would mind the teleporting—how many people could say they'd been magically whisked from one continent to another by a Norse god?—but there was this tiny little detail…

"You do know my plane is not allowed to take off without my explicit permission? Oh, and my _presence_?"

Loki's eyes glinted mischievously. "Oh, yes."

Tony chuckled. "You did not just suggest that."

Loki pouted, face screaming innocence. "Suggest what?"

"Nothing." Tony grabbed the other's hand. "How long do you think it will take them to figure out I'm not in England anymore?"

"It's almost midnight here… Give them an hour."

"Thirty minutes. Can you make people not notice our disappearance? Good. Oh, and do bring us to Carnegie Hill."

"If you say so. Hold on."

That was the only warning Tony got before the world shifted. For less than a moment, he felt as if someone was trying to suck him out of his skin. Then, vertigo kicked in. Tony stumbled, and Loki's grip was the only thing that saved him from an intimate meeting with the ground.

"Shit," he gasped.

"You get used to it."

"How do you ever get used to that?"

Loki shrugged. "The effects become less intense with time."

"Uh-huh." Tony ran a hand through his hair. "I think I'll just take your word for it. Come on, let's go."

"Aren't you supposed to be done with walking?" Loki fell into pace beside him.

"I will be. In a minute." As soon as they reached that damn house…

Something still shifted in Tony's stomach when his eyes fell upon the door. So familiar, yet so foreign. It didn't matter that he'd been here in recent months; that entrance had the word 'past' written all over it, despite Tony's best efforts to rub it off. But, he wasn't there for that, now. He stood there to write 'present' all over the 'past' in big, capital letters. In red, and gold, and green.

He fished the keys out of his pocket and climbed the stairs to the door. A soft click later, and the old doorway opened in front of them. The very same floor he used to run around on before he was even tall enough to properly reach the doorknob. That same floor his knees had been much too intimately accustomed with. Old and dark, but freshly cleaned and polished like the rest of the house.

He waited until Loki silently slipped inside, then locked the door behind him. Darkness cloaked the place; it was still early in the evening, but the days were getting short again. Without thinking, he reached out in the right direction and flipped the light switch on. His eyes asked Loki to follow him up the stairs.

The tension wouldn't leave his body. It had been easy to let Loki into the present, a little harder (because those kind of things were scary, end of discussion) to find a place for him in the future, but he'd done it anyway, and the results pleased him beyond what he could express with words. Allowing Loki into a time of Tony's life where he had never belonged? Damn, Tony had a hard time finding a place for _himself_ in the past after he'd finally managed to stop dragging it around like the baggage it was and began appreciating what he had now, instead. Trying to fit Loki in there? Harder than getting through five board meetings in a row.

Like always, the sound of his soles tapping against the floor drowned out Loki's catlike footsteps. Exactly how many centuries had the god spent to consciously perfect his walk?

Tony stopped in front of a door that looked just like any other one in the house, and swallowed.

"You don't need to do that," Loki said softly.

"You needn't have told me about your fall," Tony replied.

"You don't have to worry about repaying. You already have."

"Loki." Tony turned to face him and placed his hands on the god's shoulders. "I don't know what's with you and that debt thing you've had going on lately. Or, the whole time, in your head, or whatever. Listen to me. Yes, life consists of giving and receiving. Yes, it is good to repay favours. But, it doesn't always happen consciously, and that's fine! Most of the time, it's a completely natural response. Subconscious. You must have noticed that."

"I… have."

"We worked fine that way. Didn't we? Snowflake?"

Loki nodded.

"Then tell me, what's wrong with that, now?"

"It's…" Green eyes flitted away for a moment. "I started thinking about it. And… If you do that, you realize that nothing ever comes for free."

"Perhaps, you think too much." The corner of Tony's lips curled upwards slightly.

"I probably do."

"Certainly. Let it go, okay? I do things, things like this"—Tony waved towards the door—"because it makes you happy. And, seeing you happy makes it more than worth it."

"It makes you happy," Loki murmured, and if that wasn't a hint of incredulousness in his voice, Tony would donate his car collection to the nearest college. And, that was a hint of sadness in Tony's chest, right there, that little pang of something akin to pain, because someone as wonderful as Loki should not have issues with self-esteem. Welcome to reality, Tony Stark.

"Yes, you fool," he said. Then, before he could find another reason to hesitate, he pushed the door open.

The library was by no means enormous (like the ones Loki had told him about). A room the size of Tony's bedroom, it was covered in bookshelves from floor to ceiling. Oh, but the light it brought to Loki's eyes! Although, there might have been a little guilt in the darker specks of green, too.

Loki's nimble fingers slid over the books' spines oh so carefully as he walked down the aisle, and he leaned a little closer from time to time to inspect one book or another. Tony only watched. Loki seemed so at home here. Would he have been at ease like that in a public library? Better yet, why had Tony never accompanied him there? And Asgard? In their libraries?

Loki tore his gaze away from the books and smiled at Tony, whose chest constricted. He could still see his mother between these shelves, but her outlines were blurred as if he were watching through a layer of water, whereas Loki was real, and here, and full of life, and it suddenly felt so _right_.

"Tony? Is something wrong?"

The inventor shook his head. He didn't quite trust his voice right now.

Loki closed the distance between them. His hands came to rest on Tony's cheeks, green eyes too bright. His lips parted, but no sound came out. A heartbeat later, any distance between their mouths was gone, and Tony's senses were assaulted by something so unmistakably _Loki_; his smell, his taste, his touch. Tony liked to think he tasted of winter, but he'd never tasted winter before, and even if he had, if he actually could, he was sure it couldn't be quite so intoxicating. Winter couldn't make his baseball cap fall to the floor when it buried its fingers into his hair just so, it couldn't press against his body, couldn't suck the last bit of oxygen out of his lungs, and it sure as hell couldn't produce that kind of a soft, not-quite-broken, not-quite-needy sound that escaped Loki's throat when Tony caught his lower lip between his teeth, but damn, if it didn't make the inventor want to tear off the other's clothes right there. But, Loki reminded Tony on winter, and so the inventor could say his tasted like it all he liked.

"Tony," Loki exhaled, pupils blown wide. If this had started as a way to say thank you, it had escalated to something along the lines of _need, need, need_. Loki rolled his hips against Tony's (or, slightly above them, stupid height difference), and Tony responded with a groan. His hands slipped under Loki's shirt, roaming over the planes of his back, and his lips found that spot under Loki's ear that made the god arch into his touch.

Without thinking, Tony caught the other's body between his own and a bookshelf, pulling at Loki's scarf, which had surely been made with the sole purpose of annoying him, to gain access to his neck.

"Tony…"

"Yes?"

Loki arched his back, rolling his hips a bit, and what little blood Tony had left in other places of his body rushed straight to his groin. He was supposed to be tired? Yeah, right. His feet hurt? What were feet again? He didn't need feet, not with that delicious friction, and Loki's fingers in his hair, and Loki's breath hitching in his throat right under Tony's lips.

"Tony…" One of Loki's hands grabbed the collar of Tony's jacket (why were they still wearing jackets? Or shirts? Or anything, for the matter?) and twisted the fabric. "Take me."

Yes. Yes, exactly what he'd been waiting to—

Wait, what?

He tore away from Loki's throat (ahh, that spot looked like it was going to be a lovely hickey tomorrow) and caught his gaze.

"Are you sure? You know, if you want real sex, I can totally bottom." Damn, he'd come to regret not going all the way with that one guy in the past. Experience would be more than welcome now.

Averting his gaze, Loki bit his lip.

"Snowflake?"

"It would make me feel that I'm hurting you," he murmured just this side of audibly.

"What? No, you wouldn't hurt me! We'd have to be a little careful, sure, but why do you think you'd hurt me?"

Loki muttered something under his breath, too quiet for Tony to understand.

"Look at me, please," the inventor almost whispered. Loki obeyed, and his eyes were bright and too full, and Tony's chest constricted.

"Why do you think you would hurt me?"

Either Loki parted his lips a couple of times in unsuccessful attempts to say something, or they quivered. He sucked in a breath.

"If I told you—if I promised you you wouldn't hurt me, would you hold my head under water?"

Somebody surely stole the air from the room—for a moment, Tony couldn't breathe at all. When his lungs finally extended again, it was understanding that filled them (and pain, always pain).

"Loki…" He brushed a strand of hair away from the god's face. Now was the time to say things, wasn't it, and surely there were so many things to be said, but Tony couldn't even think of one. "Loki," he repeated instead and wrapped his arms around him, filled with a sudden desire to hold him as close as was physically possible. "We don't have to do anything."

Loki's lips brushed the shell of Tony's ear. "But, we both want to."

"Then, who am I to say no." Tony smirked and gently nibbled on the Tricksters neck, making him gasp. Hands pushed his jacket off his shoulders as far as it would go with his arms bent like they were, and sneaked under his T-shirt. Tony's breathing caught. His body sought to _devour_ the person in front of him, but he couldn't just—

"Wait." He forced the word through his teeth. "Not here."

"Oh. Okay. I understand."

"Do you?" Tony's lips brushed against Loki's jaw. "I would love to fuck you against a bookshelf. But, I want London's dirt off my hands before I stick them in certain places, and then there's the general lack of lube in vicinity." And, he wanted Loki to be comfortable.

"Oh."

Loki's arms closed around him. The sucking feeling was back, right along with the vertigo. Tony felt his body hit something soft, still he groaned at the impact. Then, his brain switched on again, and he realised they were lying on his bed.

"Bathroom," Tony muttered. Stupid hygiene. It was much too successful in killing the mood. But, he thought as cold water washed the soap off his skin, he got to sleep with Loki. For that, he'd wash his hands a thousand times. He caught Loki's gaze in the mirror as he stepped away from the sink. Not taking his eyes off the god, he grabbed a towel (he did not want to sleep in their come, thank you very much). Loki, being Loki, splashed water in his direction, and Tony grinned and caught his lips with his own.

The struggle for dominance was short; Tony won, just like he'd known he would, because Loki let him win, always did. Not that Tony minded. He walked the god backwards, shrugging off his jacket as they went, until the bed was suddenly there and they landed on the mattress. Tony accidentally bit down on Loki's lip, because falling caused that kind of things, earning a moan. He licked the broken lip in lieu of an apology. Fingers caressed his scalp, and the body underneath him shifted. It made him want to fuck Loki into the mattress until he couldn't remember his own name. Instead, he unbuttoned the Trickster's shirt and helped the latter raise his torso enough that Tony could pull the clothing off. He ran his hands down the sides of that pale, slender body, capturing Loki's lips in a slow kiss.

He knew this was not going to be the hottest sex of his life. Hell, it probably wouldn't make it to the top something on the hotness scale, but it was going to be with Loki, and every other encounter in the sheets (or the shower, or on the sofa, or the kitchen counter) paled in comparison. Damn, if Tony wasn't determined to make it feel good for his lover.

His lips trailed down Loki's neck to his collarbone. One of his hands slid under the small of the god's back. Tony rolled his hips, biting back a groan, and Loki did the same in response while his fingers danced up and down the inventor's spine.

And then, Tony's phone rang. The man growled in frustration and glared over his shoulder to where his jacket lay with the phone inside it.

"Jarvis, cancel that. Turn it off, burn it, whatever. For all I care, we're in Alaska, but we're. Not. In. We're not. Screw them."

Loki grinned. "I thought you were going to do that to me."

"Oh, I definitely am," Tony groaned. His fingers caught Loki's nipple and rolled it, feeling the bud harden under ministration. His lips closed around the other one. The muscles in Loki's body tightened, arching his back just the slightest, and his breathing sped up a little, but other than that, he made no sound. However, his hands, tugging at Tony's T-shirt, and his eyes, sending the man a silent message that he'd annihilate the piece of clothing if it didn't get removed in the next five seconds, were loud enough. Tony complied with his desires; after all, this was one of his favourite T-shirts.

He found that spot under Loki's ear again, hands fumbling with his pants until he finally managed to pull them down. Too bad he had to move to finish the job, but he did, and soon they were both completely naked. Tony's eyes burned with the need to travel over the pale body spread on his bed, to take in every inch of that smooth skin. He resisted; it wouldn't do anything for the self-consciousness he could feel radiating off Loki. Instead, he climbed back on top of him and ground their hips together. Loki's breathing hitched. Again.

Again.

Again.

Nails dug into Tony's back, and Tony finally, _finally_, slipped his hand between their bodies and grabbed Loki's erection. The hold on his back didn't lessen. Loki let a small moan escape his lips as he buried his face into the crook of Tony's neck. His panting warmed Tony's already heated skin. It sped up even more, and then Tony pulled his hand away, and Loki whimpered at the loss. Tony nearly did, too, because damn.

He reached towards the nightstand for the lube, dropped it onto the bed, and ran his hands down the outer side of Loki's thighs, applying a little pressure to the underside of his knees. Loki understood; his long legs parted and bent, and Tony certainly didn't make a ridiculously needy sound when that caused his cock to rub against Loki's, not at all. Adjusting his position, he pressed his lips to the god's hip bone and trailed butterfly kisses across his pelvis to the other side. Loki blindly reached for the billionaire's hand, missing it the first time but succeeding the second, and Tony, swirling his tongue around Loki's navel, squeezed right back. His other hand found its way between Loki's legs, and he lazily ran a finger over the god's perineum. Loki arched his back some more, tilting hip hips; whether it was done on purpose or not was impossible to tell.

"Tony," Loki half-whined.

"You'll have to let go of my hand, babe."

"Sorry," Loki mumbled, and the way he blushed was much too cute to be legal, but Tony would end up losing a limb or two if he told anyone about it, probably even if he just mentioned it to Loki, so he just smiled a little, instead, but turned serious again all too soon.

How many times had he poured lube onto his fingers like that? How many times had it meant nothing at all? He'd always been good at that, sex with no strings attached. What if he fucked up tonight? He was only about to sleep with a rape victim. No pressure.

"Tony?" Loki propped himself on an elbow to get a better look at him. "Is something wrong?"

Tony hesitated for a moment or two. "No, it's… I do something you don't want me to, you tell me to stop, _okay_?"

"Okay," Loki whispered with a hitch that had Tony thinking he'd meant for the word to come out much more certain.

"Okay," Tony echoed. His left hand slowly caressing Loki's thigh, he ran the slick tip of his right index finger between those pale buttocks, up, and down, and up again, and around the hole. Muscles tensed under his palm.

"I'm here." Tony peeled his hand off Loki's thigh and intertwined their fingers instead. "Happy thoughts, babe. Kittens, and rainbows, and sunshine."

Loki snorted affectionately. "Idiot." But, his muscles seemed to relax, if only partly. Tony pressed the tip of his finger in, just a little, not enough to actually push past the past the ring of muscles there, then withdrew and teased the surroundings again. His tongue traced the line of Loki's lowest rib. Nibbling, he pressed the finger in again, further and further still until it was buried in the heat to the knuckle. A strange whimpering sound escaped Loki's parted lips. His free hand guided Tony down for a kiss that lasted entirely too long and left them panting. Yet, despite the desire, Tony's veins were still filled with blood, not pure, liquid need. Carefully, he pushed his finger deeper.

"All okay?" he asked when Loki's grip tightened. The Trickster tilted his hips in response, inviting Tony's digit deeper still.

Well, if he said so.

The billionaire started moving the finger in and out, gaze travelling to Loki's erection. The god seemed inclined to overstepping his usual boundaries tonight. Perhaps…

"Don't."

Tony looked up only to find green eyes carefully regarding him. He gave a short nod. He might not have given a blowjob to a man before, and was therefore kind of curious, having been on the receiving end often enough, but Loki had been forced to do it far too many times, and Tony knew now that the god's ability to control gag reflexes was anything but natural, and—no. These were exactly the kind of thoughts that Tony feared would destroy their night. If he couldn't hold it together…

Another kiss seemed like a good idea. Judging by the way Loki arched into the contact, it certainly was, too. Tony ground their hips together (seriously, he didn't have nearly enough hands to do everything he wished to at the same time), pulling a soft moan from Loki's throat. The god shifted just so, increasing the friction, and oh, yes, that was good, that promised more, and Tony wanted—

"More," Loki breathed into his ear. The billionaire shuddered involuntarily. Little by little, he wriggled the second finger in, held still for a while, enjoying the sensation of Loki's breath washing over his skin in short intervals, then shifted his fingers. For a frost giant, Loki sure was hot on the inside. He'd have to ask about that, sometime. Not now, though. Not with another quiet oh-so-sinful noise coming from his lover.

"Fuck," he muttered. Fingertips caressed the side of his neck, lingering until he straightened again, because the arm he'd been leaning on had begun to ache.

Suddenly, Loki sucked in a sharp breath. Tony smiled internally. He rubbed the same spot again, watching Loki's body press into the touch, watching his flushed cheeks, heavy-lidded eyes with pupils blown wide that refused to close all the way, black strands scattered around—a state only Tony got to see.

"Beautiful," he murmured. "I know I'm not supposed to call you that, but you _are_, you're so damn beautiful."

Loki just opened his eyes a little wider and returned the gaze with an intensity that shook Tony in an almost literal way; there was just _so much_ in those orbs, emotions he'd been forced to admit he'd never completely understand because some things couldn't be taken apart to see how they worked, it was only the surface that could ever be scratched. He could get lost in the sea of Loki's eyes if only they didn't start glistering a bit too much in that way that could only mean one thing.

Tony immediately stopped moving his hand.

Loki groaned, trying to push down on Tony's fingers. "Tony," he whined.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Snowflake." He would have cupped Loki's face if he'd only had an extra hand.

Loki blinked. Tears were changing his eyes to emeralds, yet they did not spill. "I love you," he murmured. He rolled his hips but didn't say anything else. It wasn't necessary, because sometimes it scared Tony, too, that overwhelming intensity of feeling _something_ he feared had the ability to tear him apart and still make him beg for more with each dying breath. He choked on nothing—no, not quite nothing, on _the feeling_—and thrust his finger in again. This time, he caught the bud of nerves between the digits, earning a moan that turned into something much louder and also much more startled when he rolled the little piece of flesh. Loki's body was taut as a bowstring for a moment. Then, as Tony continued his assault, a hand closed around his wrist, and he looked up in surprise.

"Don't." Loki sucked in a couple of quick breaths. "Too much. Don't do that."

Filing the information away for later, Tony decided adding a third finger sounded pretty promising, and did just that.

The bedroom was filled with panting and soft moans in no time, occasionally interrupted by Tony's curses (Loki was tight and hot, and he needed to be buried in that heat, the sooner the better).

Loki whimpered quietly when the fingers were removed. Tony wrapped his sticky fingers around the lube and tried to free his other hand. Loki's grip remained steady.

"Babe, I need that hand."

Loki shook his head.

"We can stop," Tony murmured gently. "We can finish this way."

"No." Slowly, Loki untwined their fingers. "Go on."

"Sure?"

The god tried to glare but failed miserably, what with the flush on his cheeks and his walls broken down to debris. Something was unravelling behind his eyes.

Without averting his gaze, Tony coated himself with lube, hissing at the contact. Although his hand seemed to be glad to have the blood flow through it uninterrupted, again, he sort of missed Loki's grip: the warmth, the firmness, the kind of connection that was nothing like sex because it was all too innocent, yet it felt so completely natural and so perfectly right.

He pressed the tip of his cock against Loki's hole, watching for a reaction. Green eyes slid shut then opened again. Slowly, he pushed in and stilled when he saw Loki's fingers ruthlessly wrinkle the sheets.

A second in silence.

Loki tilted his hips and spread his legs even wider. It was an invitation Tony couldn't resist. He bottomed out and moaned in pleasure. Fuck, the heat, muscles gripping him in such a delicious way… Willing himself to remain still, he leaned down to capture Loki's reddened lips in a sloppy, heated kiss that was immediately accepted and returned in practically in the same way.

"Move," Loki whispered next to his ear after they'd parted. Tony's heart skipped a bit. Suddenly, he was filled with the desperate desire to remember this moment forever, take a picture of it and stick it in a frame, or better yet, a painting, because photographs could never be so emotionally charged, and he felt like he was going to explode from the intensity.

Legs wrapped around his hips, and he was definitively going to have bruises where Loki's fingertips pressed into his skin, but he would never complain. Wearing a mark left behind by a lover—well, he could so live with that.

Moaning softly, Loki was sin personified, still there was something incredibly naïve if not outright innocent in the way he clung to the inventor's shoulders when the latter slowly built up a rhythm. His belly was rubbing against the god's erection and muscles clenching around his own, and oh, this was good, this was really good.

Then, Loki's back arched. Tony didn't need to be told to aim for the same spot again, and thought he missed it the first time, his second try pulled a lovely breathless moan from Loki's lips. A litany of "Tony, Tony, Tony," filled the man's ears right along with his own panting. Heat pooled in his groins. Something inside him tightened, and no, shit, he couldn't come before Loki, this was not the way it was supposed to go, no way, it couldn't, think unsexy thoughts, think—

A wave of pleasure washed over him, he half groaned half screamed Loki's name, and managed a couple of erratic thrusts before he was spent. That familiar, pleasant tiredness enveloped him as he collapsed on top of Loki. If he could just lie like this…

But there was a pressing problem (literally) to take care of, so he sneaked a hand between their bodies, smeared the pre-come around, and got to business. A few pumps were all it took. A shudder shook Loki's body, his mouth opened in a soundless scream (that left Tony unable to decide whether it was perfect just the way it was, or if actually hearing the god's voice would be even hotter). Then, he sagged against the mattress. His breaths, still rapid, filled Tony's ears. The inventor nuzzled against Loki's neck and brought one of his hands up to stroke the god's hair.

"You okay?"

Loki hummed noncommittally. Tony gathered all the willpower he had left, rolled off of Loki, and reached for the towel.

"Tony?" Loki muttered when the cloth was pressed against his skin.

"Hm?"

"Thanks." The corner of his lips curled up.

Tony blinked, his sexed up brain needing a moment to connect the dots. Then, he grinned right back, albeit a little sleepily.

"I knew you could say that!" He threw the towel… somewhere and snuggled next to Loki. His lips found naked skin; Loki's usual taste mingled with saltiness of the sweat. "I love you."

"I hope you like apples."

"Huh?" Not exactly the response he was going for. But, whatever. "They're okay. Why?"

Loki buried his face in the crook of Tony's neck.

"Because I'm keeping you."

What?

Blink.

Blink.

B—

Ahhh!

He slung an arm around Loki and pulled him close.

* * *

A/N:

1. To explain some things in this chapter...

I couldn't find any info on Viking birthday celebrations or the absence of them. The only thing I could find was the fact that people gathered around the birthday person because they believed spirits (good and bad) were able to reach them on that day, and sought to protect the person from them. I figured the Aesir wouldn't need that.

Big Ben. It's been called Elizabeth Tower since 2012. Before that, it used to be Clock Tower and St Stephen's Tower. The Jackie Chan reference has to do with the movie Shanghai Knights. Watch it, sometime, it's funny.

The 'Queen James's Story' I mentioned goes by the name Steenie (otherwise known as George Villiers, or the Duke of Buckingham-have you seen the Three Musketeers?) and may or may not have had blue eyes in reality... Don't ask.

2. This is the official end of the fic. I'll post extras, now, but none of them will occur later than March 3 (the meeting with the therapist). There will most likely be a sequel; I really want to explore some aspects of their relationship, but first I'll have to see what Thor 2 will give us to work with.

You can find me on Tumblr under shadesofmidnightsun. I'll probably post some fic-related stuff there, and any info concerning the sequel when it comes to that. Feel free to ask me anything.

Please review ^^

~shades


	24. Bonus 1

A/N: Sorry for the wait. I had to survive without internet for a while.

This is for Fleeing Dawn, who asked for it quite some time ago... It takes place on August 2, chapter 6.

* * *

The ache was there, again.

No, it was always there. But, at least it was only present on some deep subconscious level when he slept. When he didn't, it showed its claws. Dug them deep into his psyche before he even managed to take in his surroundings.

A pang of pain flitted though his chest. Despite everything, he'd hoped, just like he always had, that maybe this time it wouldn't be there.

He should know better than to hope, by now.

Slowly, muscles protesting, he pushed himself into a sitting position and pressed a palm against his forehead as his vision swam a little. Shadows danced in the corners of the room. Loki thought he heard them sing, but the next moment, they were silent. Pity. Perhaps, he should sing a little.

His eyes travelled to the body lying on the other side of the bed, and an iron hand squeezed his heart.

That mortal.

That damn mortal.

Watching him sleep so peacefully, Loki couldn't even suck in proper breaths. Then, a drop of blood fell onto Stark's face. It was instinct that told Loki to brush it off. He reached out—

No. It wasn't real. It wasn't real, it wasn't real.

It scared him.

Was this even real? The room, Stark, this moment? Or, was it all an illusion that would waver and disappear the moment he tired to touch it?

_Please, let it be real._

Heart hammering in his chest, he reached out once again. Only an inch left. Half an inch—

His fingertips brushed Stark's skin, and relief washed over Loki like a tidal wave. There was more, though. Warmth, and electricity of the kind Thor could never summon, and craving so intense he couldn't bear it.

Stark would never be his.

Especially because, soon, there would be no _him_, anymore. And, Stark shouldn't see him, then. Nobody should.

Nobody would.

He was not willing to suffer through pain day after day after day. Not this kind of pain. Not through losing himself, his mind. It was the only thing he had left. That, and moments like this. Stolen.

His… affection for Stark had kept him going.

His affection for Stark would end him.

So, so slowly, he took hold of Stark's hand (_so warm_). He wished he'd have the right to this, but it was just another stolen moment. Gesture of affection. A kiss on the hand.

All stolen.

_Like you_, he heard a voice whisper.

There was blood on the floor. Had Stark killed somebody? Was someone here to hurt Stark?

Loki blinked furiously, but the blood didn't disappear. He could still see it when he climbed off the bed, heard it splash around his feet. Was it real, after all?

Why always _blood_?

He pulled a sweatshirt out of the duffle bag to cover the bandages (_Stark's work, Stark cared, why did he care, he couldn't care, he cared_), then walked out of the room.

Every step hurt. He couldn't quite tell where the physical pain ended and the psychical began.

He'd been hoping to see the cats around, but there was no trace of them. Loki's eyes ended on the windows, instead. Perhaps, he would feel better if he got some air.

Half expecting Jarvis to stop him, he stepped out on the terrace. The air was pleasantly warm despite the early hour, and a gentle breeze caressed his skin. If only Stark's finger could take its place…

In a way, he did feel better, now. But, he also felt so much worse. Paranoia crept up on him; he swirled around even though he knew nobody else was there. But, that was the problem, wasn't it? He was alone. Always and forever. Shadows were the only thing keeping him company, and he feared the shapes lurking on the edges of his vision.

Sometimes, he heard Thanos laugh. That he feared the most. What if the titan was watching? Seeing him, here and now, and laughing at how he was slowly losing bits of his sanity?

No. He couldn't know…

And, Loki shouldn't be thinking about that. He could already feel his grasp on reality slipping, just a thought or two more and he'd be back in… Somewhere.

His hands clenched into fists.

This had to end. All of this. It would be so easy, too. A single step over the edge.

'Why?' was not the question. 'Why not?' was. He had nothing to gain by continuing this miserable existence. A month or two, perhaps, and an eternity locked away in some institution, or, if SHIELD got their hands on him, as a guinea pig. If he lived at all.

His legs moved on their own. A second later, he found himself staring down on the city.

It was too tempting, really, and it wouldn't be bad. He'd already fallen once, and this would be nothing compared to _that_.He could see the ground. A couple of seconds, and it would be all over. The pain. The disappointment. The failure. His unrequited crush. Everything just gone as if it never existed. If he still had his magic, he would almost surely survive the fall, but without it… Sweet death.

It wasn't like anyone would mourn. Not even Thor, not this time, even if had, maybe (not likely), before. Now, Loki was a criminal. Murderer. His hands were covered with blood. Perhaps, that was the reason it seemed to follow him everywhere.

He turned around. Might as well watch the sky bleed while he fell.

The wind felt good against his body. Almost like hands were reaching for him, inviting him to let himself go, and they would carry him into oblivion.

And then, Stark barged through the door, but he froze a moment later, staring with such obvious disbelief in his eyes.

He shouldn't be surprised. He shouldn't look like that.

Loki felt his lips curl into a smile. Perhaps, it was meant to make the man feel better. Perhaps, he was glad the end was near. Perhaps, that foolish fluttering in his chest was to blame.

Then, Stark moved, and Loki let himself fall.

Wind enveloped his body.

He held his breath.

Strange, how he still had time to be afraid.

Strange, that he—

Stopped?

What?

A solid surface under his body. Hands on his shoulders. It was all _wrong_. Unless… Unless this was death?

"Loki."

_No_.

He gasped. Forced his eyes open. "Allfather."

Whatever was going on?

At least, the sky was still bleeding. Or… No. It was _Asgard's_ sky.

Before he had the chance to ask anything, rough hands grabbed him by his arms and forced him onto his feet. He swallowed a hiss of pain, focusing instead on the surface under his feet. The Bifrost.

Why was he here? Surely, the Allfather didn't care for his life that much. Surely, the Allfather had not forgiven him, already. A few lives saved couldn't be nearly enough. A few minor things.

He remembered a forest. A childhood. Leaves rustled in his ears. Could they sing? Just a simple song, a lullaby, perhaps, since he was so tired.

No.

No, no, no. That wasn't real. He had to focus. Odin. The bridge. The silence.

His gaze met his father's eye.

"Tell me, Loki. Did you plan this?"

Loki snarled. "Elaborate 'this.'" He couldn't find any kindness left. Odin had taken too much from him.

"My coming to get you. Are you planning to bargain?"

Loki cocked his head a little. Or, perhaps, his neck refused to hold it upright.

"If you think so, why did you bring me here?"

"Heimdall informed me of your actions. I couldn't let you hurt yourself so," Odin replied with some deep calmness, as if it was perfectly logical. And, it was, too. Oh, how obvious it was! Loki wanted to laugh. Of course, he couldn't just die! He wasn't allowed to die. That would be a shortcut out of his punishment, a crime by itself! Would he really be forced to slowly wither away until the runes burnt the last bits of magic out of his core?

It shouldn't hurt so.

And, what of Stark?

He squared his jaw.

"If I were to bargain"—he forced the words through his teeth—"if I were to, say, attempt—"

"No," Odin cut in. "I will not let you evade your punishment. Even your clever words will not win the argument for you, this time."

They could. He could get out of this. He'd always been able to find a way out, casualties be damned. There had to be something to work with. If only he wasn't tired, again. Or, was it still? If he could just clear his mind and _think_.

"There is… something I would ask… Something insignificant. A detail."

Odin sighed heavily. "Don't force me into acting, my son."

"There is a mortal," Loki said quickly, "who, perhaps, thinks me dead. If he does, I would ask you to disable his ability to question it."

He couldn't read his not-father's look. This was bad. Odin was going to refuse, and if Stark figured out Loki was still alive, he'd search for him, probably, maybe, and he couldn't bear the thought of it. Damn, he had to think. There had to be something—

"The Casket!" he blurted, raising his chin on impulse. "You take care of the mortal, and I'll return the Casket to you."

Odin's eye narrowed. His expression was curious, and calculating, and thoughtful all at once. Loki felt his own heartbeat echo through his body. Surely, it was loud enough for Odin to hear?

Slowly, the Allfather spoke, "I accept," and the word sent shivers down Loki's spine; for a moment, his mind was blasted back into the past, back to Jotunheim, and Laufey, and _I could have done it, father!_

"Where is the Casket?"

He blinked.

Things fell into place, and for the second time in mere minutes, he fought the urge to laugh.

He would never admit it. Ever. But, it seemed he had managed to save his sanity… by accident. True, his mind wasn't in the best condition, but to think a human had got so deep under his skin that Loki's thoughts turned to the situation concerning him first, and magic second…

It should never have come to this. He couldn't think anymore.

He felt too much.

Still, life had shaped him into a performer.

The corner of the Trickster's mouth curled up ever so slightly. "In my pocket of in-between space."

At once, recognition filled the Allfather's eye. His expression darkened. "I suspect you desire I undo your bindings."

"I promised you the Casket. Now, I must get it, is it not so?"

Odin's eye narrowed even more. "This is a dangerous game you're playing, boy."

Boy. _Boy_. He didn't know why, but the word stung so badly. It made him feel small again, small, helpless, and foolish, and he wanted to scream he was not a boy, that childhood was lost forever even if he should wish to go back in time, but he couldn't, for that would only confirm he _was_ a boy.

His next breath trembled on his lips. Then, calmness covered him like a mask.

"Switch the runes with shackles, a collar, whatever form of bonds would suit you the most, and let my magic recover. I shall give you the Casket when it does."

It was reasonable enough, wasn't it? He wasn't sure, anymore. Purple nebulas darkened to impenetrable blackness, the bridge turned to barren rocks. Wind so cold it made even him shiver touched his skin in a mock caress.

A dark shape on the even darker background.

Please no.

Not Thanos. Not Thanos, please, not Thanos.

Loki's fingers twitched. He had to banish the image while he still remembered reality.

"Very well," Odin said, pulling the Trickster's mind back to here and now.

Loki nodded. "After that, you could, perhaps, allow me to use some magic? I am sure I can do something in return..."

"No." Odin's voice was made of steel.

Loki forced the corners of his lips upwards. He hid his hands (his twitching fingers) behind his back. "Oh, I'm certain there is something I could provide."

"Of that I have no doubt, but you have given me no reason why I should trust you with magic. This is a punishment, Loki, and you will bear it without protest. It was your misdeeds that caused you this."

He pressed his lips together. "I need magic."

Odin sighed, looking tired yet grim at the same time. "Yes. For you devious plans."

"You don't un"— Shutting up, Loki clenched his fists. Why couldn't anyone comprehend? Why didn't they see? Although... Stark did, in the end.

"Please. Please, let me have my powers."

But, Odin shook his head. Something inside Loki shattered; he was down to begging, yet his not-father still told him no. Desperate, he pushed the remains of his pride aside.

"The runes are destroying my mind," he said as calmly as could possibly manage. "I'm going mad."

"You're a great liar, Loki. I wish I could believe you."

The Trickster parted his lips, not even to speak so much as in shock. When Odin reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, he did the only thing that came naturally to him—stepped aside. Something that could have been sadness if it wasn't buried too deep under disappointment to be recognisable flashed through the old god's eye.

"Now, be reasonable. I will allow you to be bound with metal and not runes from now on if you will not attempt such a thing as your stunt again. I do not wish to hear Heimdall call for me once more."

Loki nodded automatically. There was nothing to consider. He would get his sanity back, that was all that mattered.

"I accept," he said (_Laufey said that, his father, his not-father, abandoned, abandoned, abandoned_).

"Very well. You shall wait here, since your banishment still stands. Heimdall will stand watch."

Heimdall?

Loki turned. The watchman stood some thirty feet away, unmoving as ever. Loki glanced the other way, but Odin was already gone.

He took a breath. Squared his shoulders and approached the Watchman.

"You know it's the truth," he said.

Impassive golden eyes turned his way. "It is not my job to watch your every move."

"But, you do, don't you? And enjoy every second of it."

"There are more appealing things to watch. The Allfather is right, you are a liar, princeling."

Loki cocked his head just the slightest. "It is you who is lying, now."

"Men with nothing to hide have no need to lie."

Loki snorted and turned away. Presenting his back to Heimdall made his skin crawl uncomfortably, and he had to remind himself Odin would come back, would see if Heimdall hurt him, killed him—

The thrice damned Watchman. If he hadn't told Odin—

But no. That would imply…

"You notified Odin I threw myself off the roof?" Better to make sure.

"Yes."

Then, that would mean—

Odin hadn't known before.

Loki was supposed to redeem himself, and his not-father wasn't even watching.

Not that Loki cared. He didn't have a family, anyway.

When the Allfather returned, the Trickster's mouth remained shut. He nodded when he needed to nod, but he didn't say a word.

All the time, the sky kept bleeding.

* * *

A/N: Another excuse for the wait: I wrote a fristiron oneshot (that will become a twoshot in time) titled A Different Kind of War. It was written for SSfrostiron's contest on tumblr, and I'd be really happy if you checked it out and, in case you like it, voted for it on SSfrostiron's tumblr.

Stay awesome!

~shades


	25. Bonus 2

A/N: Thank you for your reviews, alerts, etc., and my beta for, well, being my beta. This takes place on January 15, chapter 13.

* * *

Pepper crossed her arms. Uncrossed them. Crossed them again. Uncrossed. She swung her left leg over her right knee.

Was Tony trying to drown himself in the shower?

She shook her head. That man would be the death of her, always flirting with danger and completely forgetting there might be people somewhere who worried about him. No amount of lecturing had any effect on him; he was who he was, as Pepper was well aware, yet she was always worried sick, always confronting him because she needed to try, hoping something might get through to him.

But even if—as—she failed, she still did half the job.

Tony _needed_ her to appear and wag fingers at his face. He knew that every time he'd do something risky or reckless she'd be there, playing a concerned parent. Yes, he'd roll his eyes and sigh, but he knew—and Pepper knew he knew—that if she didn't come, something bitter would spill in his chest. After all, she was only mad because she cared.

No matter how much she'd swear she couldn't cope anymore or how many times she'd quit, there was no way she'd abandon him. In his own messed-up way, Tony kept showing her he cared, so Pepper would do the same. Besides, Tony needed her in a way nobody else did. There'd been years when they'd only had each other. Then, there'd been their romantic relationship, and she'd really, really been hoping it would work out. Perhaps she'd always known it couldn't. She did not, however, regret it. Their bond was so much stronger, now, due to everything they'd been forced to face and managed to overcome. They'd remained friends. Even though she had Phil now, nobody could ever take the place of Tony Stark.

That didn't mean she wasn't majorly irritated. Tony could have died. Died! And then he'd simply appeared, waved the whole thing off, and brought Loki (of all people!) with him, acting like it was all no big deal. He could have at least acknowledged what had happened was big.

At least she had other people to keep her informed. Phil had kindly phoned her right after the battle had happened, so she'd know Tony was alive and unharmed. Steve had briefly recounted the story for her, too. The arrival of the Chitauri. Loki planning to go with them to make more of his nefarious plans. How Tony prevented it. The fighting. That, surprisingly, Loki had fought with them, even going so far as to close the portal with the sceptre. That he was serving his punishment and therefore it was okay to let him stay here.

Earth's would-be conqueror. Staying in Stark Tower.

Pepper wasn't scared too easily, but the thought still filled her with apprehension. After all, nobody knew what Loki's motivation for fighting the Chitauri had been. As far as Pepper was concerned, the pagan god should be locked away somewhere. She knew why he was here, still it didn't stop her from hoping SHIELD would drag him away in the morning.

Finally, the door she'd been staring at for far too long now opened, revealing Tony in fresh clothes and with still-wet hair. His eyes, dark with something Pepper couldn't quite grasp, landed on her. Something else flitted through them.

Pepper pushed to her feet.

Tony's lips, previously pressed in a straight line, parted.

"Pepper, please, spare me," he said, sounding tired and all in all like she had no right to complain, because it had been him who'd had to fight, not her. Which was all true, but it was she who'd been forced to wait and bite her fingernails, and telling herself time and again all would be well. His fight had been physical. She'd been fighting her own anxiety. Couldn't he understand? If he couldn't change, would it hurt him too much to just listen? Did her feelings really matter so little at times?

She made an angry step forwards. "Spare you. Of course, why not? You left because of an urgent situation, possibly a threat, a portal to some crazy magical place that shouldn't even exist opened, you fought against those creatures again, and I had to find all that out from Phil?"

It was only natural that Phil should let her know, with them being lovers and all, but Tony was her best friend. She had the right to be notified.

Something white hot pulsated through her veins.

"Would it kill you to leave a message? Something like 'I'm working on a potential security threat?' What if nobody told me anything and you didn't come back? I, I—do you have any idea how it feels to wait here, knowing that you might die, and not being able to prevent it?"

She felt her own hands clench into fists, but it was nothing compared to the raw power of Tony's fingers pressing into his palms. A shadow fell over his face, dark and sinister. His lips parted, then closed. Brown eyes widened a fraction. Some barrier deep inside them shattered like a dam, and a river spilled out with the force of a natural disaster.

"Yes, I do! I fucking do!"

Something she'd said must have been very, very wrong. The unobstructed rawness of Tony's voice hit a certain place in her heart.

"I was willing to sacrifice half the Earth if that was what it took to save one person! Do _you_, do _you_ have _any idea_ how it feels to stand back and watch someone you _fucking love_ walk towards something worse than death?! _Do you?!_"

His gaze found hers, but his eyes were unseeing. Only a moment passed before he turned and slammed the door behind him, but that moment was filled with pain to the point of spilling.

Pepper sucked in a breath.

She made a couple of steps back and sat down again.

Took a deep breath.

It had been a while since Tony had last shouted at anyone, much less at her. They'd had it hard right after the Chitauri invasion. She'd gone to bed alone and woken up to an empty room too many times. Found Tony dozing off on a couch after he'd spent the whole night doing everything and nothing. He'd never admitted it, but that fight had changed something in him, left an imprint Pepper couldn't understand. Tony had only spoken about his nightmares once. Space. Falling.

It still didn't sound too terrible, but there had to have been something that made his gaze turn distant and his chest heave with too fast inhales. She just couldn't understand. Luckily, Tony had accepted that.

It hadn't helped, in the end. They'd argued. Not too much. Mostly, the passion had faded. Maybe she should say it had been sucked out of their relationship. Tony had raised his voice once or twice, then, especially when their conversations involved Phil, who had been hospitalized and still had a long recovery in front of him. Pepper had enjoyed spending time at his bedside, a bit more every time, and Tony was no fool.

But even when it had been clear they were over, that Pepper had made her decision, that there was nothing left holding them together, he had not shouted. Spent the night with his favourite whiskey, yes.

But not shouted.

This just now had not been merely annoyance with her. It had been an overabundance of emotions. There was something that was tearing Tony apart if he'd exploded like this.

Pepper swallowed. Something was wrong. Something about this battle had been different from the other Avengers missions.

She rose again, wishing Tony would answer if she asked; he was much too stubborn for that. Still, she entered the corridor. Somebody needed to make sure Tony was not doing anything stupid.

Her knuckles met the wood of his bedroom door.

What had Tony even been talking about? Love and death?

There was no response from the other side of the door.

"Tony?" Pepper said softly. The last thing she needed was to fuel whatever emotions had taken control of him. "Can I come in?"

Still nothing. No witty reply, no snarky comment.

Pepper gently bit her lower lip.

"You have five seconds, then I'll open the door, okay?"

She was getting worried, now. It was possible that he was in the bathroom, but seeing how he'd just showered, it wasn't very likely.

Staying true to her word, she slowly pushed the door open. Her feet tapped against the floor. Then, she stopped.

Tony was sitting with his back to the wall, legs pulled as far up to his chest as they would go, face buried in his arms. An open bottle of scotch had been left on the chest of drawers.

Pepper swallowed and crossed the room. Tony didn't even acknowledge her presence as she kneeled down in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders in an attempt to penetrate whatever walls he'd erected.

"What happened?" she asked softly. "Did someone die?"

Tony shook his head awkwardly. It wasn't as good as words, but at least he was responding, now. Pepper had a feeling something was terribly, terribly wrong. She searched for words she didn't have at the moment. The silence was growing heavy. It needed to end.

"I was scared," Tony muttered. His voice was muffled by his arms. There was more: it was shaking. "I'd never been scared in battle before. I mean, I'm aware any of us could die, but everything just turns to adrenalin, yet this time…" His fingers pressed into his legs. "Thanos was… like a promise of death. Of pain."

Who was Thanos?

"I knew I had to fear him, that I had reasons to. I…"

Again, Pepper's mind grabbed that one thought—what had made this battle so different from all the others? What could have been so bad that Tony would actually admit he'd been scared?

"I was trying to be brave," he rasped, "to do the right thing, but inside I kept thinking… How long would it take him to bring _me_ to my knees?"

She was about to speak, but then Tony lifted his head, and she saw his eyes were filled with unshed tears he didn't even seem to notice. It shook her to the core. Would life never stop being unfair to this man? If such a thing as karma existed, was it fair to blame him for the destruction his weapons had caused without his consent? If there was no such thing, how could his bad luck be rationalised?

Tony lowered his gaze again. "It made me think about all the things he'd done. And would do."

"Who is this Thanos?" Pepper sat back on her haunches. Her hands slid downwards, to Tony's upper arms.

"No idea. Some being from outer space. I guess the Chitauri were his force."

That… just didn't make sense. Why would Tony feel the need to be terrified of somebody he didn't even know? Better yet, how did he know about things Thanos had done?

"But you know about him?" she said.

Tony's hands trembled just the slightest. His voice did, too.

"Not… Not really. It was just—just a slip of his tongue. A coincidence. What if—what if he'd never… What if I hadn't known and nobody would… Nobody would…"

He grabbed Pepper's arms with such despair she almost started. Tears were spilling down his cheeks, and now Pepper was really getting scared, now. This was so unlike Tony. His blabbering wasn't making any sense, yet it was frightening; Tony had never been one to worry about what-ifs before. Things happened, and then they were over. From what she'd gathered, everything had worked out fine tonight. Still, here was Tony, crying over something that could have happened, and she was furiously trying to find some meaning in his words, but it was hard to know who he was even talking about. Thanos? And himself? And somebody else?

"That was so _brave_!" His voice broke a little. "I didn't want to think about it, but if they, if the Ten Rings—if it was me or the world, what if I chose me? And no one would even know, but I knew, and I couldn't let Thanos—"

The Ten Rings? What did Tony's torturers have to do with this?

"He told me I had no idea. He told me he'd never wanted any of this, and I didn't believe him. Truth is, I would have done the same. We all would. If I'd had no chance to create the suit, I would have built the Jericho. You do what you must and what you can."

Something inside her brain clicked. Tony was _drawing_ _parallels_.

He stubbornly wiped his tears away. "I should be happy now, shouldn't I?" His lips twitched as if trying to form a smile, but were unable to do so. "We're alive, and Thanos is most likely dead, and I can't stop thinking about all the what-ifs, and all the things I did wrong, and everything no one ever notices."

He did smile, then, and it was such a sad, brittle smile it hurt to watch. "Hey," he said weakly, "I guess you should whine about Agent, now, to make us even." He sighed. "Well, at least you know where you stand."

She and Agent?

Wait.

This was about _love_. Of course it was.

Thanos, and Tony, and somebody else.

Tony being scared of Thanos because of somebody else.

But, only the Avengers had been there.

And…

"Loki?"

It couldn't be. It couldn't.

Tony's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Pepper held her breath, and he nodded once.

_Impossible_.

Her hands flew up to her face on her own.

Was Tony compromised? Had Loki somehow got into his head? The others had to hear about this, do something—

Abruptly, she stopped the train of thought.

It was all kinds of messed up and impossible. She couldn't understand it. At all.

"How did that happen?"

"It's a long story." Was it just her, or did Tony sound relieved? Oh God, he'd been expecting her to freak out. She wasn't sure why she hadn't done it, either. Every reasonable person would.

But "every reasonable person" hadn't been there for the last six months, watching Tony build walls around himself, staring into space, or drinking himself comatose. "Every reasonable person" hadn't had heart-to-hearts with Tony while his eyes held that sad, distant look, hadn't heard Tony questioning himself, had not been there that time in DC.

"I stumbled upon him last Christmas. We met a couple of times since then. It was all strange, and complicated, and fucked up."

"I'll believe that." Suddenly, she felt like laughing. There was no explanation for it. The situation just seemed so bizarre. Yes, Tony seemed to love Loki, but this was _Loki_. The crazy Norse god with a superiority complex. She could see how things made sense. At the same time, they made no sense at all. "But I can't believe how the hell—"

"He didn't really mean to conquer Earth," Tony cut in, as if feeling the urge to defend Loki. No, not defend, that was a given. He _feared_ Pepper's judgement. "I don't know the whole story yet, and he might never tell me, but Pep, he's not all bad. He found the cats, he saved Clint's life, he—he's a little rough around the edges, but he's just a person like we all are."

She sighed heavily. It was clear how much all this meant to Tony; his whole face was practically begging her to understand. Not that she could. Not this very moment, anyway. Given time, though… But Loki was a murderer. He…

What ended her internal argument, in the end, was not reason. It was her trust in Tony. If he could love his would-be murderer… There had to be something worth loving in him.

Probably. It wouldn't be the first time Tony was doing something utterly crazy. However, it was the first time he really loved someone. That press conference would never have happened otherwise.

"He won't tear your heart out?"

Tony shook his head.

"He won't try to destroy Earth again?"

"Pep, he offered his life to save it."

So, that would be the "walk towards something worse than death" part?

"To Thanos?" she asked, just to make sure. Because, apparently, Tony was saying Thanos and the Chitauri were Loki's enemies, and there was the parallel with the Ten Rings… "Sorry, but your word vomit was hard to understand."

Tony nodded.

"And he won't kill anyone?"

"I don't think he will."

Not as good as a clear "no, he won't," but she supposed it would have to do.

"Then get your ass down there this second!"

"What?"

Tony's face screamed incomprehension. Pepper had to roll her eyes as she helped him to his feet.

"You two are in love? Well, now you have a chance to make things right, so go to Loki." Was she really saying that? "He'll need you when he wakes up." Again—was she _really_ saying that?

She had no time to ponder it, because Tony hugged her with such force she feared for her ribs. It was kind of funny, really, his display of affection. Of gratitude. That, and how he was behaving a little like a love-struck teenager.

She laughed softly, trying to free herself.

"You know," she said, "I noticed how down you were in the summer and the last month. I know you well enough by now. You wouldn't go to such lengths for just anybody."

Secretly, she couldn't help but wonder whether he would ever have done the same for her. It was one of those questions that couldn't be answered.

"Pep…" Tony's mouth stretched into an affectionate smile. "You don't know how much this means."

Maybe she didn't.

But maybe she did.

She still remembered how relived she'd felt when it became clear Tony had accepted Phil as her boyfriend.

* * *

A/N: You can find me on tumblr (shadesofmidnightsun) in case you have questions about/want to discuss anything related to my fics, headcanons, frostiron related stuff, etc.

Please review ^^

~shades

P.s.: I don't know about summer temperatures in your countries, but if they're anything like ours-good luck surviving them ;P


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